


The Power Of Love

by SonnieCelanna



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abusive Dursley Family (Harry Potter), Adopted Harry Potter, Dursley Family/Consequences, Harry Potter and Hermione Granger Are Siblings, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter Friendship, Hermione Granger is a Good Friend, Lily Evans Potter Dies, Magically Powerful Harry Potter, Misguided Albus Dumbledore, Not Canon Compliant, Occasional Severus Snape Bashing, Powerful Harry, Severus Snape Has a Heart, Severus Snape/Consequences, Smart Harry Potter, The Grangers Adopt Harry Potter, eventually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-04
Updated: 2020-12-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:56:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 72,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27381553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SonnieCelanna/pseuds/SonnieCelanna
Summary: When Albus Dumbledore stumbled into the Potter Cottage following the attack of Lord Voldemort, he could not say what he was expecting. It certainly wasn't to find out young Harry Potter was protected by the manifestation of one of the most ancient type of magic known to Wizardkind...Yet that was exactly what he discovered.~~~~Harry Potter-Granger had always known he wasn't normal. How could he be? His sister may have assured him constantly they were family no matter what the differences between them, and he knew he'd give everything to protect his family, but he could not deny his abnormality. Not just because he was the adopted black sheep of the Granger family... but because he knew not every child could just move the objects around them with their mind alone.Until one day, not just he but his sister as well got that fateful letter inviting them to join Hogwarts School of Witchcraft in Wizardy. Finally, he could fit in... and he could be with his sister all the while, blissfully unaware of the magic already protecting him with it's power.The Power Of Love.
Relationships: Daphne Greengrass & Harry Potter, Hannah Abbott & Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Harry Potter & Lily Evans Potter, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Harry Potter & The Lady Of Love, Harry Potter & Voldemort, Hermione Granger & Daphne Greengrass, Hermione Granger & Fred Weasley & George Weasley, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Neville Longbottom, Neville Longbottom & Harry Potter, Terry Boot & Harry Potter, Terry Boot & Hermione Granger, The Lady Of Love & Albus Dumbledore
Comments: 69
Kudos: 131





	1. The Lady Who Protects The Boy Who Lived

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MusicRose](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicRose/gifts).



> WARNING: Author has not read books in a long time nor does she plan to. She defers to Movie's mainly for information, but will do her best to follow Book canon where she can.

“ _Oh sweet darling, my sweet little darling,_

_Don’t you go worrying about far off things~_

_Oh darling, my sweet little darling,_

_Don’t you worry about those daft old things~_

_No matter where you go, no matter where,_

_No, it doesn’t matter, you’re still my lil bear~_

_No matter where you go, no matter where,_

_All that matters to me is that you care~_

_Care for others, like I will teach you,_

_Care for others, and love will meet you~_

_Don’t you worry about those far off things_

_Future houses and school and Quidditch rings~_

_In Gryffindor? then you’ll be_

_My brave little lion, see?~_

_A Hufflepuff? That is quite alright,_

_With pride, my heart will be set alight~_

_And well my young, Ravenclaw?_

_I love smarts, and knowledge raw~_

_And maybe, just maybe, you’re Slytherin?_

_I’ll love you all the same, my cunning kin~_

_So don’t you cry or fret,_

_Mummy always loves you…_

_No matter which house you get~”_

The soft, dulcet tones of Lily Potter carried through the small cottage house belonging to the red headed woman and her dark haired bespectacled husband James Potter, who was staring slack-jawed alongside an equally stunned black haired Sirius Black at the woman as she bounced her young infant child, Harry James Potter, in her arms to calm him down.

The baby, who shared the black hair of his father but the piercing green eyes of his mother, was laid back down in his crib as Lily quietly cooed over him for a moment, tickling his stomach gently while he happily gurgled away.

He had been crying loudly just moments prior, due to a spat that James and Sirius had gotten into over a prank. A prank where Sirius had pretended he’d been hit by a divination dream and foreseen Harry being sorted into Slytherin. (Lily suspected it was revenge for James making his pants fade away in front of the director of the DMLE.)

Either way, James had not taken kindly to the prank due to an earlier confrontation with Severus Snape of all people, who’d appeared drunk before him in an Alley and demanded to see Lily.

It was a good thing James was the one he found and Snape should count himself lucky he never came across her really, due to the man having had no choice but to leave so he could find supplies for Harry that were running out. Unlike James, who had respected that legally Snape had yet to be found to have done anything illegal and thus couldn’t be detained beyond a restraining order (which was hard to enforce when the only one they had was a muggle one), her husband had been remarkably patient in only hexing Snape to throw up and disorient him so the man couldn’t follow James when he apparated home.

Had it been Lily, she was half certain she’d use have knocked the man on his backside and used Deprimo, the Pressure charm, on his unmentionables until he was screaming out a promise to never come near her or her family again.

And that was if she was without Harry at the time and being nice. If Harry had of been there…

  
Well, best not to think about It really. It wasn’t what was important right now. What was important was her son below her, who had begun bawling at the argument of his father and godfather, upset at them fighting and, James claimed, ever being associated with Slytherin.

Lily had hit both men over the head gentle as she’d burst into the room, having overheard the argument, and rushed to comfort Harry with her singing. She’d thrown a meaningful look at James during the part about the houses and he had the decency to look ashamed as he picked up what his wife was putting down.

“That was incredible.” Sirius finally spoke up quietly, bringing the ginger woman’s gaze over to the two men. Both immediately went from amazement to fear in an instant as they realized they’d just drawn the attention of the beast to them that was an irate mother.

She turned her glare onto her husband.

“Couch. Now.” She commanded simply and her husband followed. Sirius, the good natured idiot that he was, couldn’t resist the urge to speak up without thinking.

“Oooh, someone’s in the dog house.” He chuckled, only to freeze as Lily’s glare snapped to him.

“Two people.” She corrected and he paled as he realized he was in for just as much punishment as James was for making Harry cry. “Get.”

The scruffy wizard nodded immediately and bolted to follow his best friend while Lily turned her attention to her son as her gaze softened, meeting his curious expression.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. Mummy is just gonna teach Daddy and Paddy how to behave around you.”

A tiny giggle escaped her son, making her coo as she absent-mindedly put her hand over his chest gently and he grabbed on with his big wide eyes shining happily.

Without even needing to say it, she chuckled as she understood what he wanted. “You’re a little pest, mister.”

Harry gurgled innocently in response. Lily rolled her eyes with a fond smile, taking her wand out the holster she had sewn into every single sleeve of any outfit she owned.

“Wingardium Leviosa.” The mother muttered happily, pointing her wand at a stack of building blocks and making them float above and around Harry. Her son cooed happily all the while, seemingly trying to make his tiny hands clap together as he watched them happily.

It was his favourite spell, always enthralling the little baby and usually helping relax him enough to put him to sleep. Then he suddenly gurgled and began throwing his hands frantically towards her with a frown, before repeating.

Lily just giggled as she understood what he wanted. “Accio building blocks!”

And all three blocks rushed towards Lily who caught them with a practiced ease. James often joked she would be a better seeker than him by now.

Harry gurgled happily, satisfied as he clapped his tiny baby hands together. Lily just smiled softly at him. “There, Harry, is that what you wanted.”

She could swear she saw his little head tilt slightly into a nod, making her giggle at his adorableness. Then it happened, out of nowhere, his lips began to move and her eyes went wide.

“Ah Kee oh, Muh me! Ak Kee oh!”

Her heart stopped as her mouth went dry and her eyes lit up with happiness. His first words! Harry’s first words!

She picked him up without hesitating, smiling one of the widest smiles of her life as her song cooed happily in her arms as she bolted down the stairs.

  
“JAMES! SIRIUS! GET YOUR BUTTS OVER HERE NOW! HARRY SAID HIS FIRST WORDS!”

It was a day of immense happiness for the household. Her heart only melted further when Sirius had ended up having an epiphany that Harry had realized things were brought to people when they said Accio and he had wanted his ‘Mummy.’ James of course was upset he missed the boy’s first words, but Lily had assured him Harry would speak many more words in future.

And while that wasn’t wrong, the presumption they’d be around to hear them was. It was only a month later, to the very day, that Lily and James breathed their final breath's protecting their son from Lord Voldemort.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore stared at what remained of the Potter cottage with his mouth agape in horror. It was rare for the silver haired, aging and bearded wizard to show his untampered emotions to something but even to him the death of James and Lily had been a shock.

Of course he knew Tom Riddle was resourceful, cunning and insane enough to possibly find a way past a fidelius but nonetheless the old wizard had thought he’d had time to arrange a new situation. Time to ensure Voldemort would never find the Potter’s as long as he lived.

Time to save his students… and his friends. That ached in the old wizard’s heart more than anything. James and Lily Potter were his friends, and their death was a blow even he in his old age couldn’t take without a great deal of pain settling upon his heart.

  
The young didn’t deserve to die that way. With shaky steps Albus stepped into the ruined cottage, sensing the battered and scattered remains of Tom’s energy all around him.

‘Well…’ Albus thought, with a mix of relief, confusion and just a hint of annoyance that he hadn’t been the cause. ‘The feeling was true. Tom has been defeated for now…”

Which begged the question of ‘how did that happen?’

The old wizard didn’t dare let himself hope as he walked into the living room, heaving a heavy sigh as he found that was the right decision as he saw the lifeless body of James Potter on the ground, wand in hand and clearly having been in a fight to defend his family.

Albus could only crouch down, doing the minimum of closing the man’s eyes to allow him to rest. He choked back his personal emotions, as his voice came out heavy but calm. “Rest my friend. You did well.”

Suddenly, a wailing sound like an infant cried out and Albus stood up as his eyes widened a fraction in shock. He hurried his pace, moving up to the house’s nursery.

His frown deepened as he could already see Lily Potter had suffered the same fate as her husband, her body sprawled out on the ground. The silver haired wizard took out his wand as a precaution, though he did not need it, and settled down above the woman to do the same for her as he had done for James.

Then he stood up, coming face to face with the young Harry Potter, his eyes wet as he cried and screamed for his dead parents.

“I am sorry, little one.” Was all Albus could think to mutter in that moment, though he knew the child would be very unlikely to understand him.

And the sorry was not just for the parents but for what laid upon the child’s head. A scar like a lightning bolt. A scar of a curse, one that radiated energy that could only stun the old wizard as he realized what spell caused it. “Oh, my boy…”

A scar, that Albus could feel Tom… feel Voldemort was part of, his soul attached. With quiet non-verbal waves of his wand the wizard set to work determining all he could about the scene he had stumbled upon, finally pointing it at Harry who wailed louder in fear which tore at the old man’s heart in a way not even losing his friends in the Order would.

He could put together a picture of what had occurred already, with little doubt in his mind. Tom had decided to take stock in a prophecy he had heard, one that made Albus’s heart falter. Voldemort had tried to kill Harry as expected and in doing so, it would seem he had marked the young boy as his equal.

It begged the question of ‘How?’ once again. Did Tom transfer his power to young Harry? Did he destroy his own Power and force himself into a similar state as the infant wizard perhaps?

The sad fact was, Albus was fairly certain he had a good idea of how. It was a sad thought indeed, yet he needed to check if it was true…

When he read the diagnostics from his scan, he could only sigh at his wand. Voldemort’s soul had attached to the young wizard. A deeply buried, dark part of Albus whispered in his ear.

Whispered to him that he had a chance to finish the remains of Voldemort. That he just had to step forward and take it…

The old man shook his head, frowning deeper as he realized Tom’s influence was still abound. He’d have to rid young Harry of it immediately but safely, and he knew just how to do it.

He pointed his wand at the child once more and ignored it’s wails of fear. “Liga Magne.”

A hazel bolt of magic tore from his wand and hit the child, making them glow for a moment, golden ethereal chains wrapping around the boy. A bind upon his magic, a bind that would lock most of it away.

Harry would have to live with being a weak wizard, to ensure he would not suffer the curses of-

Albus’s musings were interrupted as the chains suddenly started to break away, shocking the older wizard. He’d never seen a bind he’d place fail before, especially one upon an infant. Was this Tom’s magic?

No… this magic, it was dark but its aura was familiar, an emerald green glow ripped through the cracks in Albus’s magic and through Harry’s scar.

“Lily…” The bearded wizard muttered in awe, as he realized Lily had set some kind of protection in place even Albus had been unaware of. It shared qualities of dark magic, Albus could sense the familiar tingle of blood magic in the air.

Yet something far lighter mixed with it, a power that manifested itself so often in the wizard world but never for a specific witch or wizard, only for when the moment was right.

The power of love swirled through the air and wrapped around Young Harry, a pink glow joining the green glow as Albus’s bind was destroyed… yet it did not end there, as the aura’s surrounding the child grew brighter.

A dark shadow appeared in the air, emanating energy that screamed its allegiance to Voldemort only for the aura’s of magic to lift off Harry and both attack, wrestling with the shadow to force it into submission.

Albus could only watch in amazement as the fragment of Voldemort’s very being was torn apart by the unexpected and unstoppable force of the two magical energies.

And then they finished their assault and repelled the fragment, the shadow dispersing into the air with a terrible scream. Albus absent-mindedly stepped towards Harry…

And the Aura’s reacted, the green aura of Lily Potter’s magic wrapping around her child protectively as the pink magic of love formed a vaguely humanoid shape as it had small tendrils shot off it towards Lily’s body.

Albus barely registered as his stunned state finally subsided that the energy refused to let him towards Harry. It glowed and a moment of comprehension dawned on the old wizard.

“You’re bound to him…”

“In a sense.” Lily’s voice nearly made the old wizard jump as he turned to see Lily standing up, a pink glow around her body. Her eyes were a pure pink glow as she walked calmly past Albus and stood over the child beneath her, placing a hand upon his head and putting him to sleep as she hushed like a concerned mother.

But…

“You aren’t…”

“Lily Potter. No, I am not.” The body said, gesturing towards the green aura in the air. “She is Lily potter, and she has consented to my use of her body to ward you off. I am merely the spirit of love magic. If you must have a name, you may refer to me as Lady.”

  
“Ward me off?” Albus questioned, admittedly perturbed and confused by these turns of events. The Lady of Love turned to him, her eyes somehow showing off a fierce protectiveness despite the lack of detail.

“I was sworn to defend Harry Potter by his mother when she gave her own life out of love to ensure her son would always be protected and cared for.” Lady explained, her glare cutting through Albus. “I am bound to the blood of Harry Potter now.”

“She used dark magic…” Albus muttered, only to get a violent head shake from Lady.

“She used magic.” Lady corrected, stunning the wizard as he felt her imposing nature match up to his own power without faltering. It was stunning, breath taking to see it this way. “Dark and Light are the specifications wizards decided for themselves, but there is no true Light or Dark magic. Just magic and that is why I did not hesitate to answer to the demands of Lily Potter when she bound me to Harry’s blood. For her own demands were made out of exactly that, love. And now I will carry out my duty as I have been commanded until the day upon which there is nothing left of Harry Potter to protect, protect him from harm of all.”

Her eyes flashes dangerously and the next thing Albus knew they were in his office, the headmaster’s office within Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She stood before him either unknowing or unrepentant of the hundreds of years of work and wards she must have torn apart to move them into the school so easily.

“Protect him from harm to mind, harm to body, harm to safety…. And harm to magic.” The next thing Albus knew, he was forced into his chair with Lady standing above him ominously. “I promised Lily Potter not to kill anyone unless explicitly told otherwise by her son or in grave emergencies to fulfil the promise to protect Harry. Know this though, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, I am capable of ending a life if I deem it necessary, and I do not discriminate between Light and Dark like your kind do. You are a friend to Lily Potter and so, I shall allow your transgression of attempting to bind my charge’s magic to pass. Know now though another such incident and you will not be met with the same mercy.”

Shock ran through every vein in his body as he realized the error he had made. With a snap of her fingers, Lily’s body disappeared and only the Aura of Love remained in the air, a letter dropping on his desk.

“You will not return to do anything to Harry Potter this day unless you wish to invoke my ire. You will find a new home for him and take him there, and with Lily Potter’s Protections watching over him, Harry Potter will thrive. You will ensure his safety and care and do no more until it is time with your duty as a teacher, to do more.”

There were a million ways this could go, but Albus was no fool, despite Tom’s claims. He knew power, and he knew when and when not to trifle with it.

And now was most certainly _not_ the time to trifle with the power of love, with her mission stated clearly just the same as her anger at his actions. If there were Lily’s wishes, he could not deny them.

“I understand.”

With a nod, Lady disappeared into nothing, the pink aura gone, where it would return to young Harry to envelope him in her warmth, wrapping around him along with what remained of Lily Potter who had chosen to bound her essence to Lady’s to ensure her own desire for the protection of her son would always shine through Lady Love’s actions. Harry, who all around him without even meaning to was causing a whirlwind of chaos as his magic acted up, performing his favourite charm with the help of Lady to try and calm him.

Meanwhile, Dumbledore would set to work, finding Harry a new home to meet Lady Love’s demands. He was certain he was doing the right thing, that he was right to say he understood.

Yet he picked up a folder and looked for Petunia Dursley, the aunt of Harry Potter, Lily’s sister. He assumed there would be more protections that must be to do with blood wards if Lily had used Blood Magic, the girl having always been the type to have back up plans.

He told Lady Love he understood. He told himself he understood.

He did not.


	2. Of Love, Levitation and Families

BANG! BANG! BANG!

“UP! GET UP!” Petunia Dursley’s shrill voice demanded impatiently, making Harry jerk awake with a start, groaning quietly as the young raven haired seven-year-old reached for his broken glasses, frowning at the crack in the frame and opening the door. He had grown up yet by looking at him you wouldn’t be able to tell by quite how much, he was small and skinny, with signs of malnourishment on him. His hair was as messy as his fathers and his lightning bolt scar was barely covered by it. “About time! Breakfast won’t make itself! Hurry up, Vernon needs to leave earlier and I won’t have him going hungry!”

‘So start on uncle Vernon’s and have nothing for myself.’ Harry thought bitterly, already knowing where this was going as his blonde horse-faced aunt stalked off into the kitchen. ‘Even though we’re the skinny ones who need it.’

He knew better then to comment aloud on his aunt’s bony stature though, as he stalked into the kitchen. He set to work without a thought chopping up what needed to be chopped for the breakfast, mindless and clearly practiced.

Of course he was practiced. He couldn’t remember the last time any of the horrible members of Dursley’s family had ever cooked anything. Since he was barely five, he’d been treated like some kind of personal chef in the mornings despite his weak protests that they always said Dudley, Petunia and Vernon’s son, was too young and he was older then Harry.

Nor did it matter to the family the consequences of cooking at his age when he inevitably couldn’t do it flawlessly- “Argh!”

Speak of the devil… Harry winced as looked down to see he’d brought the knife clean through his finger with the last chop, though fortunately had only cut it open and not chopped it off.

And if he was being honest, the sharp pain of the cut wouldn’t hurt as much as- THWACK! Aunt Petunia’s frying pan to the back of the head.

‘Ow…’

“Idiot! You’re going to get blood in Vernon and Dudley’s food!” His aunt chastised without a care for his pain as he held the back of his head with a hiss. “Wrap it up and get back to work!”

“Like a stay at home like you would know what work is.” The quiet words escaped Harry before he had a chance to think and stop himself. His eyes widened and he braced.

THWACK!

“How dare you!” Petunia hissed angrily, going a brilliant shade of purple in her anger. “We took you in with the kindness of our hearts after your stupid parents went and got themselves in that car crash by being drunken idiots and you repay us by acting like a freaky disrespectful little brat!? No dinner! You will finish up and not come out that cupboard until next month! Do you understand me?!”

“Yes Aunt Petunia.” Harry said almost robotically with a nod as he stared into her blazing angry eyes. He had no idea where remarks like that came from, if he was to be truly honest. It was like they weren’t even his words but like he was suddenly being made to read a script out sometimes.

And usually it ended in one of the Dursley’s getting mad. Better his aunt than his uncle, Harry thought to himself as he waited for Petunia to storm off into the living room to calm down before he turned to the nearby tea towel he wanted to use to clean the blood from his finger, as at least his aunt would only hit him once for a comment like that.

He was sure if it wasn’t for him being a freak he’d still have the many bruises of the times Vernon Dursley lost his temper. Not wanting to focus on that, Harry looked around to make sure no one would see him as he didn’t want to be punished more before he lifted his good hand up to a tea towel across the room.

As though it was metal and Harry’s hand was a magnet, it suddenly shot across the room into his grasp and for just a moment something settled inside Harry, calming his hammering heart from his aunt’s rant.

Using his secret ability always did seem to help him that way, as though it was grounding him when he used it. He ignored the flash of red hair that went through his mind, kind loving eyes.

He didn’t believe his aunt was telling the truth about his parents. They weren’t drunks or idiots. He could remember three things about his parents.

The love in his mother’s eyes as she looked down at him, a green flash and a scream he could only assume was from the day he was torn away from them so unfairly and a pink glow, a pink glow that seemed to assure him his parents loved him.

Loved him enough that they’d never have gone drink driving and risked losing Harry like they had. He wasn’t sure how he knew, he just did, something deep in his soul sung with warmth to assure him of that truth.

He knew better than to ask questions though. Aunt Petunia and uncle Vernon had made sure he understood that rule. He understood that he was not meant to ask questions. He did not deserve answers. He wasn’t to be trusted when he did and his own realization from dealing with them and so many unsympathetic teachers who took Dudley’s side always had taught him to remember the rule that adults could not be trusted either.

He finished wiping away the blood and let go, yet the towel didn’t drop the floor. Instead it steadily floated into the dishwasher which seemingly opened on its own and disappeared inside.

His secret ability was just that. Secret.

It hadn’t always been. Since before he could form full memories, aunt Petunia had been beating it into him verbally and with uncle Vernon sometimes physically that he was a freak and that they would not tolerate ‘His freakishness and abnormality in their nice orderly non-freak household!’

Harry hated it but he couldn’t deny he was a freak. He must be after all. The Dursley’s hated anything not normal so much and took so much pride in being normal that Harry knew he must be a freak if none of the Dursley’s could move things the way he could.

In fact, no one seemed to be able to do it like he could as far as he was aware. He knew better then to ever reveal to anyone at his school what he could do with how the Dursley’s treated him whenever they had saw it.

They were of the firm belief they’d managed to beat it out of them and Harry would prefer it stay that way. It was about the only thing about the things the Dursley’s hated him for that he could control.

The other ‘freakishness’ as they would call it was never him trying to do anything, it just happened. An incident with a shrinking jumper, his hair growing back far too fast to be normal after a bad haircut, a teacher’s wig turning golden.

One time it _had_ been Harry doing it. Harry had learned to hate school, no matter how hard he tried, due to his shy nature, he never really made friends and Dudley had made many with whom he scared away everyone from Harry. Made many friends with whom he could torment Harry.

And one time Harry had enough, being chased in his secondary year of Primary school, scared and just wanting to be left alone and he’d lashed out, having used his ability to trip several of them up by pulling on their feet. He didn’t dare do it to Dudley though, instead just being thankful when he tripped over one of his own friends.

Dudley hadn’t been happy but at least no one had assumed it was due to him being a freak but just an unfortunate accident of Dudley’s friend tripping and causing a chain reaction.

The raven haired seven-year-old shook his head as he levitated the plates onto the table, keeping an eye and ear out for any of the Dursley’s. It was like his own secret rebellion in a way, using his power when they weren’t aware.

Plus, he couldn’t give up the single thing in his life that kept him sane and grounded. Kept him from feeling like he was going to snap under the scrutiny and mistreatment of the people who he was in the care of.

Even at his age, Harry was under any delusions about what his treatment was like. He knew it wasn’t how normal kids were treated. Knew if Dudley was the one being treated the way he was there would be an outcry of horror.

But there was no outcry for him. No one cared enough about him to call out how he was treated, to even see how he was treated.

Or maybe they did, and just like the Dursley’s told him, they thought it was deserved because he was a freak. With a depressed sigh, Harry shook his head of the depressing thoughts, vaguely aware he was back in the cupboard under the stairs again.

His only space to himself; a sign above him proclaiming it to be his bedroom in childish scrawling, a few broken tiny toys scattered on the shelves, a few pennies, a book on maths he kept from school and one on Latin he’d found out Dudley had stolen then left around upon realizing Latin wasn’t a book on sweets like a girl had convinced him it was, were all that decorated the space. There was nothing else but spiders and cobwebs.

He preferred the books to the toys, even if he could rarely understand them in the later pages.

He threw his uninjured hand out noncommittally towards the door, vaguely are of it closing in response while his own gaze turned to where his cut finger was. He hadn’t wrapped it up, there was no need.

After all, there was the other proof he was a freak just waiting to kick in now. And as if summoned by his thoughts, his wound glowed pink from inside before it began repairing itself, the cut closing and leaving behind nothing but a scar to fade.

Harry sighed. He was certain this was why the Dursley’s were so nonchalant about hurting him. Because every bruise he got took no time at all to fade, every cut sealed itself up far faster than a normal human would expect.

Though it was hardly flawless. While the pain subsided, the marks never truly disappeared when they were bad enough, just waiting to be found. He still had a burn mark on his neck from one of his first forced cooking attempts.

In fact, it was the time where Petunia realized that Harry could be forced into the dangers of cooking at his age without care. Because as much as she hated the abnormality as did Vernon and Dudley, they seemed to enjoy hurting him more which seemed to make up for it.

Still, Harry would be a liar if the scrunched up faces of confused disgust and delight weren’t a little funny whenever the Dursley’s realized they had to sit through his freak nature to enjoy him getting what he deserved.

They thought they were the perfect normal family and Harry was a secret shame they reminded of his place at every moment.

Harry frankly thought (rather bitterly) that they were stupid jerks, with ugly faces to boot who wouldn’t be able to survive without him if Petunia took Ill.

“BOY!” Vernon Dursley’s voice roared and his cupboard door was yanked open, revealing a large whale of a man with a bushy black moustache and short hair whose eyes were simmering with barely contained rage. “Petunia’s just told me of your disrespect! You have no idea the sacrifice we make letting a freak like you into this house, showing the kindness to you that we do!’

Harry gritted his teeth and reigned in his indignation, his want to scream back that the man didn’t know kindness. He may have been angry at the Dursley’s as his mind had been trailing over all the injustice they subjected him to, but he was not stupid. He knew what would happen if he lashed out.

“You will be getting a right thrashing when I get back, do you understand!?” Vernon snarled. “And I better not see your face at all beyond that for the rest of the day or you’ll be in this cupboard until this time next year!”

With that angry threat, his cupboard door was slammed shut and Harry could hear the man storming away, and the very quiet sound through the walls of a car driving off.

Harry sadly knew this feeling of worthlessness, of knowing those around him had no kindness nor love to spare for him. This lack of love for him he felt in his soul. It was a painful feeling. it was a familiar feeling.

It was a daily feeling for him in the Dursley household, in house four of privet drive. The daily feeling of no love, no hope and pain both physical and emotional gleefully taking their place.

Silence permeated the room after that and with a suffering sigh, Harry laid back down. He knew a nap was not on the table, no matter how much he’d rather to just move onto a new day to get ever closer to a day when he might not ever be anywhere near the Dursley’s ever again.

Until then though, he’d just have to calm himself down to deal with them going forward. Seemingly in response, the few tiny broken toy soldiers in the room lifted up and began to float around him, keeping his attention as he just watched them and focused on breathing.

He never noticed the pink and green glow of his eyes in his glasses thanks to his distraction. It was working.

He was calming down. He was-

The door opened and a moment later the shrill scream of Petunia filled the house. He already knew what was coming and practically blacked out as he was suddenly tore out the cupboard, vaguely registered another pan upside the head and a slap, the screams of freak in his ear.

He only tuned back in to hear Dudley, who was almost as fat as his father and as blonde as his mother, throwing a tantrum about having thought he wouldn’t have to see Harry all day. The raven haired kid truly focused up at Petunia’s response.

“You can play whatever game you want, my sweet duddiekins. Harry _will_ play it with you if that’s what you want or he’ll be in even more trouble.”

Aunt Petunia knew exactly what she was doing, Harry summarized as his eyes went wide behind his circular glasses and Dudley smiled cruelly. “I want to play Harry Hunting!”

“Then he’ll help, sweetie. Just stay out the kitchen, both of you.” She warned, her sweet voice slowly beginning to drip with venom near the end as she looked up and glared at Harry.

He knew he was screwed but he refused to be taken easily, turning and bolting up the stairs. Thundering footsteps alerted him to his cousin chasing behind him. There had to be a way out, a way to escape further torment until he absolutely had to deal with it…

He turned the corner up the stairs and waved a hand to throw every door open immediately (accidentally ripping part of the carpet in the process), hoping to confuse Dudley as he ducked into the boy’s second bedroom with toys piled high and waved his hand to make his first bedroom’s door slam shut.

His plan worked and Dudley was tricked into running into his own bedroom a moment later, however Harry knew it wouldn’t last for long, he needed to find a good hiding place.

He spotted a small alcove with a cupboard tucked in and opened it, relieved to find it was small and empty, pushing himself inside easily with his small frame and waited, watching.

He heard Dudley’s door open again and footsteps in the hall. The frantic checking of other rooms quickly before he stepped into his toy room, a look on his face like he was working out the world’s hardest puzzle before smiling satisfied with himself.

He took a deep breath as he screwed his face up like he was going to cry and Harry went wide eyed as he realized what he was about to do. Not in any mood to get in more trouble with his aunt, Harry threw a hand forward and sent a toy out from the pile near Dudley, causing all the toys in the pile to come crashing down making Harry wince at the loud impact.

It shocked Dudley enough but Harry realized he was in for it now either way, as Dudley was now just going to cry about the toys as well if Harry didn’t climb out.

So he did, surrendering.

The next however many minutes that passed were painful, very painful. With only himself playing, Dudley had decided he’d have to make his already normal painful punches that much more painful for the punishment of Harry being caught.

He was half-aware of the taste of iron his mouth by the time Dudley finished. Yet the nightmare didn’t end as Harry choked back angry and pained tears. It was a bad day. A really bad day.

And considering what his days were like in the Dursley household, that was frankly an achievement in its own way. Still, it only got worse as he heard Dudley faking tears as he called out for his mother.

“MUM! HARRY BROKE MY TOYS!” Dudley fake-wailed as Harry picked himself up off the ground and staggered forward holding a bruised side. He didn’t notice the pink glow or how it briefly faltered due to the amount of injuries as he came down the stairs and found Petunia glaring ice cold daggers at him.

“You broke poor sweet duddiekins toys?! Those were expensive and not for you to ever touch with your freaky little hands!” Petunia snarled protectively as she hugged a crying Dudley close in the kitchen.

“’Sweet little duddiekins’ beat me up!” Harry protested, knowing it was pointless as his aunt shot him a glare

“Well you shouldn’t have provoked him! Just like your father, only ever good for starting fights like the idiots you are!” Petunia shot back, opening her voice to declare a punishment before stopping. Harry assumed she stopped because of him as his eyes flashed angrily and he reached the end of his rope.

He didn’t hear the door opening behind him.

“HE WASN’T AN IDIOT! YOU’RE JUST A JERK!” Harry shouted before thinking, vaguely registering the sound of a plate shattering elsewhere and the lights flickering for a moment.

A large fist collided with the side of his head, causing it to explode into pain and he felt himself picked up by the front of his short, coming face to face with a deadly looking Vernon Dursley. His voice was low, dangerous. “I return for just five seconds to grab my briefcase I forgot and what do I come back in on?! YOU DO NOT GET TO TALK TO ANYONE IN THIS HOUSEHOLD LIKE THAT BOY, YOU ARE NOTHING BUT A BURDEN ON OUR LIFESTYLE AND IF I HAD MY WAY YOU’D BE IN THE STREETS BY NOW!”

“Vernon!” Petunia hissed, nodding her head at the door which was still opened. His aunt never had been the type to like the neighbours knowing about them despite the fact she spied on everyone else. Her husband didn’t hear her.

“I TOLD YOU I DID NOT WANT TO SEE YOUR FACE FOR EVEN A SECOND WHEN I CAME BACK AND THIS IS WHAT I WALK IN ON!? DO YOU WANT TO BE DISCPLINCED RIGHT NOW?!” Vernon yelled in his face, spit going everyone in his enraged rant. Harry was honestly starting to miss parts of it though. Between all the hits, the shock of Vernon’s arrival and the pure adrenaline from fear and anger flowing through him… he was being overwhelmed. Vernon's voice went back to being low again. “That can be arranged, boy! Petunia, get my belt! Chop chop! By the end he might even see his worthless parents for a moment.”

That was it. The final straw, Harry glared into his uncle’s eyes and something must of shown in them cause for a brief moment Vernon went from cruel, angry and smug to shocked and worried.

“THEY WEREN’T WORTHLESS!” Harry screamed as he threw both his hands forward at Vernon, pushing with all his might and Vernon went sailing backwards, smashing against the mantelpiece in the living room and falling to the ground.

“VERNON!”

“DAD!”

The shocked shouts of the other Dursley’s rung out as Vernon pushed himself up angrily, stunned but not down. “You will not use that freak nature of yours on me boy! You will not!”

He started pushing forward, getting up to storm at him. Harry felt fear rise inside and to his right he was aware that the other two seemed to be contemplating getting involved for just a moment to prevent him from doing anything more.

Yet all movement in the room stopped as a pink aura surrounded Harry for a moment before coming off him and swirling in the middle of them all, taking on a humanoid shape. Petunia seemed the most shocked, especially at the voice that came from it. “Finally, the requirements to bypass the restrictions are met.”

Harry barely registered his aunt muttering something that sounded like ‘Lily’ under her breath with horror.

“BOY?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING NOW YOU F-“

“Vernon Dursley.” The aura stormed forward with amazing speed, growing in size to stand eye to eye with the man. “Harry James Potter was not the one who brought my presence. You were.”

“I what?! Don’t be daft! I would never allow something so-“

  
“Natural.” The aura finished for him, an unhidden anger in her words. “I am no more then a force of nature, the same as the running water-“ They could hear the sound of taps turning on all around the house “-the same as raging fires-“ The cover over the fire place tore away and a fire began with in, crackling away angrily “-The earth of the ground-“ They could hear the ground being dug away outside “-And the rushing wind.”

Every single window blew in at once as the door smashed open and a cold overwhelmed the heat of the fire.

“I am a force you, Vernon Dursley, have defiled daily for the past six years, as has your wife.” The aura accused harshly. “I am The Lady of Love, the personification of love itself.”

“Poppycock!” The whale of a man snarled before suddenly being flung across the room once more onto a couch, where rope seemed to manifest out of thin air to tie him down as he struggled and let out muffled screams.

“You defiled me when a child, an innocent was placed in your care and you chose not love but hated for someone who has done nothing wrong in their entire life.” Lady’s eyes snapped to Petunia as her form before more clear. The blonde woman shut her mouth immediately where it had been open to protest before as she gulped. “You were about to object that Harry James Potter is a freak.”

Oh great, even his delusions confirmed he was a freak.

“I am no delusion.” Lady Love spoke up far kinder than before and Harry looked up in shock. The Lady walked across the room and stopped between Harry and his relatives. “And Harry James Potter is no freak. The only freaks in this house are the Dursley’s.”

“Excuse me?!” Petunia asked, eyes flashing with offense.

“I said you are the freak, Petunia Durlsey. You are the one who looked at a small child, a child orphaned and alone, afraid and in pain… and decided to add onto it. Decided to continuously hurt a child who until recently only ever was seeking to be normal, for approval. A child who has no idea his true origins and could barely act with those in mind yet you punished him for who he was born to, which he has no control over. You were the freak who looked at a child and saw a personal slave.” Righteous anger coated every word of Lady Love’s rant as she stalked closer to the woman. “You were the freak who allowed every abusive hit and attack, physical and verbal, on an innocent child who didn’t deserve any of this. **YOU WERE THE ONE ENTRUSTED WITH A YOUNG CHILD WHO NEEDED CARE AND CHOSE INSTEAD TO DEFILE ME, TO DEFY YOUR SISTERS DYING WISHES, TO BE THE SCUM OF THE EARTH WHO WOULD ATTACK A BABE FOR NOTHING MORE THEN BEING ALIVE! YOU, PETUNIA DURLSEY, ARE NOT JUST A FREAK, YOU ARE A MONSTER, A HORRIFIC ABOMINATION ON THE NAME OF PARENTHOOD!** ”

The house shook with every rage filled word and Harry shook as he slowly scooted away from the unexpected and bizarre confrontation taking place before his eyes. His origins? The Lady of Love? This was all so confusing…

  
Was this to do with his special abilities?

“You, Petunia Durlsey, are not normal.” The pink aura of a woman declared finally, in a calm but deadly voice. “A normal mother would care for a child found upon their doorstep or bring them somewhere to be appropriately looked after if they could not do it. You are a freak. Lily Potter bound me to protect her son in the event of her death and I am appalled at you of all people defiling her final wishes. You are a monster, and your days of hurting people are nearing an end.”

What on earth did that mean!?

“Young Dudley Durlsey!” The Lady of Love spun around, glaring down at the quivering fat seven-year-old who’d began crying for real. The woman leaned down and her voice was more calm. There was still an anger there but she was reigning it in. “You… are a child. A child borne to hatred against your cousin due to your parents. You believe your actions are normal because they are encouraged. They are not. I will not punish you the same way I will punish your parents for harming my charge.”

“Charge?” Harry asked weakly before he could help himself, before pulling in on himself as the woman turned to him, worried she would chew him out next.

“I have no anger for you my sweet Harry James Potter.” The Lady said gently as she sent out a wisp of a pink aura which began to gently stroke Harry’s cheek as though it was a hand and he instinctively leaned into it as his body was filled with love.

  
With a maternal love.

“You are my charge.” She explained simply. “I was bound to help protect you, to keep you safe, to ensure monsters like these could not hurt you.”

Harry could barely open his mouth confused trying to think of his next inquiry when she continued.

“My presence should have been here so much sooner. I apologize, I have been restricted by the wards of this place, of the laws of manifesting magic around Muggles.” Her eyes darted to Dudley as she said this. “And to the severity of the actions. I have healed you when I can yet until now I have never had the opportunity needed to strike back like I should have been doing so much sooner.”

Petunia paled considerably.

“Yes, Petunia Durlsey, you have been lucky until now, but that luck is at an end.” The Lady of Love declared as she flung a hand out. Dudley suddenly was lifted up in deposited inside the cupboard, the door locking closed. “He will get out when he understands how it feels.”

“DUDLEY!”

“Not a suitable punishment when it is your own son?” The Lady practically sneered, putting a hand to Petunia’s head. “Then you truly won’t enjoy this.”

“What ar-“  
  
Petunia’s eyes went wide and a moment later, a scream filled the house.

A scream that made Harry go white in horror of how terrible and pained it was. It only got worse as Vernon began screaming similarly as well from where he was tied up.

Yet the Lady Of Love didn’t seem to hold any concern for them, turning and walking towards Harry, putting a hand on him. He flinched for a moment instinctively expecting to be hurt as well only to be wrapped into a tight hug.

The screaming cut out as Harry hesitantly hugged her back a single thought fluttering through his head as he realized sadly he’d never been hugged like this before. So full of love, of maternal affection. The hug of a mother looking after their child, even if that wasn’t really the case.

  
“Do not worry, my sweet charge.” The woman said in a far softer, far kinder, far more loving voice as she gently stroked his hair. “We will have you somewhere that deserves you soon enough.”

“W-Who….”

“I told you. I am The Lady Of Love, the personification of Love.” She repeated patiently as Harry turned that information around in his head a hundred times. “I should have saved you from them so many times before.”

The young boy felt his heart leap into his throat. How many times had he dreamed of some stranger coming to him, saving him, telling him they knew his parents and would keep him away from the Durlsey’s?

But he’d never once imagined it would be a lady of pure magic. The Dursley’s had always insisted magic wasn’t real.

“W-Why did you t-take so long?” Harry choked out after a moment, wincing as he didn’t mean for it to sound so rude.

“I am sorry, so sorry, Harry James Potter.” She said softly as her hands continued to gently soothe him. “I wanted to protect you, to take you away from the very first blow struck against you but there are laws, laws even pure magic cannot disobey. I am not allowed to materialize truly in the presence of muggles.”

  
“Muggles?”

  
“Non-Magical people.” The Lady explained simply. Harry wanted to say he was surprised she came for him then but… he wasn’t really.

He’d never thought of it as Magic before, but he’d always known his abilities had to be attributed to something. Now he knew.

“Your ability to heal fast was me, you are correct. I may not have been able to manifest truly but I was sworn to protect you and did it in whatever ways I had available to do so. Your ability to move things though with only a thought…” She trailed off. “There is more to that ability than meets the eye and it is not even my own magic really. I will explain more when you are older and can remember.”

“Remember?” He asked confused.

“I am sorry Harry James Potter.” The Lady of Love sighed sadly. “But I am no more than magic. I cannot be the one to take you in, no matter how much I may wish to after the disaster of the Dursley’s.”

“Oh.” Harry said simply, disappointment overwhelming him. “What happened to them?”

“Dudley Dursley is merely in the cupboard. He will be out before the day is over, do not worry. He only needed to understand what it would be like on the receiving end.” She said as she finally pulled away and he was able to meet her eye…. Kind of. “As for Petunia and Vernon, I reflected all of your pain over the years onto them.”

“…”

  
“That is to say, I connected with every moment of pain I have healed you of over the years and sent the feelings running through them for every single one at once. Do not worry, no matter how much I may have wished to have done so, I did not kill them. It was only sensations, not actual attacks.”

“How does love do that?” Harry asked in wonder yet also slight horror as he backed away.

“I am merely a personification of a type of magic. A type of magic that can fuel all other magic. As such, I am afforded the unique capability to utilize all known magic and beyond, so long as Love empowers the actions behind them.” She explained and Harry titled his confused as he opened his mouth. “’But those seemed more like actions of anger’ is what you were about to say, correct? Or at least whatever the way of saying it in your vocabulary would be. An understandable confusion but I am not the manifestation of emotion of love, I am a manifestation of the _magic_ of love. I can feel all sorts of emotions. My tie is merely to love magic alone which just happily is a conduit for all others. You may be surprised to know Love and Anger aren’t so far apart and as my fury today was born of the love of your mother and her love of you and how it was being disrespected…”

Harry nodded his head to show he understood, if only very barely. “You… said I wouldn’t remember?”

“It is for the best. There are times ahead when you will, I promise, but the wizarding world is not yet ready for you just as you are not yet ready for them.” She said with a hint of sadness. “But know this, my sweet charge, I will protect you every step of the way from now on. Your mother’s love is always there, looking out for you. Now, take my hand.”

Harry hesitated, looking around for a moment first. He realized they weren’t exactly anywhere, surrounded on all sides by nothing but white clouds with slightly pink hues and a fog all around.

There was nothing worth running off to. He turned back and bit his lip.

“Do not worry, you will not go back to the Dursley’s. I will ensure that.” The Lady Of Love said and with that reassurance, Harry sighed and took her hand as she asked. “I will let you peek the future for but a moment, for one moment it will be seen all around you. Do not fret about what you see, what you don’t’. I only want you to find the one who you wish me to move you too.”

He nodded his understanding before his mind was suddenly assaulted with visions.

A greasy haired man in a black cloak.

“ _Mister Potter, our new celebrity.”_

A blonde boy in robes with a green outline and a robe with a snake crest.

“ _Laugh it up now, Potter! You won’t be laughing when my father comes to deal with you and that mudblood sister of yours!”_

A kindly woman with a bright smile and flaming orange hair.

_“Oh Harry dear, you just come sit down for a spot of breakfast. It’s not your fault they took the car.”_

An old man with a silvery hair and beard.

“ _It does not do to dwell on dreams, Harry._ ”

A mountain of a man with a bush black beard and mane of hair.

“ _Don’t ye worry, Harry. We’ll get ‘er back, together!”_

A round faced boy smiling nervously at him, who looked to be about eleven.

“ _Thanks Harry. Guess I should have known the natural telekinetic would be great at tutoring for Wigardium Leviosa… Maybe now I can get Trevor back easier when he runs off.”_

A girl who looked to be thirteen with blonde hair and blue eyes, in black robes with a crest that bore a snake and green outlines.

“ _Are we really doing this, Harry? My parents, they won’t…_ ”

A pink faced girl with blonde pigtails who wore robes that had yellow outlines and a badger on the crest.

“ _I think it’s possible he’s using plants to sneak around undetected. A lot of people would look to spells first so it’s not an insane theory… I think.”_

Two twins with fiery red hair, who bore a resemblance to the red headed woman from before.

“ _Nice try…”_

_“…Getting to Hogsmead, Harry…”_

_“…But you can’t fool us!”_

An old woman in an emerald cloak, wrinkles on her face taut with worry.

“ _Mister Potter, I assure you, you are no ordinary wizard._ ”

A thirteen-year-old dark haired girl beaming at him, in dark robes with a red outline and a crest with a lion.

“ _Careful Potter, too many of these and I’m going to get the wrong idea._ ”

A red haired boy with freckles bearing a resemblance to those who came before. He also wore black robes with a red outline and a lion crest.

“ _Sorry mate. I never meant to upset her like that…”_

A blonde girl smiling dreamily wearing robes that had blue outlines and a raven on its crest.

“ _She’s simply upset because she can’t understand. Many are the same. I suspect it’s why Ravenclaw wasn’t an immediately obvious choice for her sorting.”_

And finally, a girl with bushy dark brown hair that looked as wild as Harry’s own, brown eyes that looked both kind and yet protective and nice white teeth holding a wand with her in normal clothes was smiling fondly and yet exasperatedly.

“ _Honestly Harry. You’d think I was the young sister sometimes with how protective you get. I’m the one who is supposed to look out for my little brother, not that you make it easy at all with your troublemaking streak.”_

The visions ended and the words escaped him before he knew what he was saying. “Hermione…”

The Lady of Love smiled. “Hermione Granger. I saw it as well. So long as she is with you, you may not have need of me. I approve.”

Before Harry could say anything else, The Lady laid a hand on his head and within one moment and the next, everything faded from his mind that he knew and he tumbled backwards what felt like endlessly until eventually ground rest beneath him.

His vision blurred and he looked around with a groan, aware of nothing but the pain of the bruises upon his body that had returned and the cut of his finger. A feminine scream got him to look up to see a vaguely familiar looking little girl barely close to a year older than him sprinting full pelt towards him.

“Hermione! Wait- OH MY GOD! HAROLD GET OVER HERE NOW!” An older woman cried. Harry was barely able to look up to see the young girl above him, their eyes meeting.

Despite the stress of the situation, for just one moment, Harry could see a pink aura glowing nearby as though approvingly and he smiled very lightly despite himself.

Then he fell into darkness, his consciousness washed away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I enjoyed writing this chapter, as you can probably tell from the length.
> 
> I really hope it doesn't affect my ability to adopt kids in the future thought XD


	3. Harry and The Grangers

Beeping was the first thing Harry heard when he came back to. He couldn’t remember much of what had happened before he’d blacked out. He remembered something about shouting at the Dursleys, a lot of pain, seeing a girl his age looking worried at him and that was it.

He had no idea what had actually happened, as he groaned and opened his eyes, being confused at the beeping and even more confused as he realized that he wasn’t on the floor but on an actual bed.

But the Durlsey’s would never give him a bed! What was going on? And why was the blurry room around him so white? A small gasp caught his attention and he looked over to where some kind of blurry brownish shape was standing.

A high pitched girls voice reached his ears. “Oh dear, you’re finally awake! Um, hang on! Here, let me get your glasses.”

A girl? Wait was it _the_ girl? The one he remembered from right before he blacked out? Vaguely, he registered them holding something out and he took it, realizing it was his glasses he quickly put them on.

He blinked in surprise realizing there was tape around the middle he had put on. His eyes moved to the girl who was looking at him with a small look of apprehension as she hummed.

“I hope you don’t mind but they were broken when we found you so I wanted them to be fixed for you waking up…” The girl, who was wearing blue jeans, a white shirt and a little pink cardigan, explained with a small tint of red to her cheeks. The raven haired boy just blinked in shock as his jaw dropped slightly. “I hope you don’t mind?”

“N-No, not at all.” He quickly assured, though he eyed her warily in shock. No one had ever cared about him or his glasses before. Did she want something from him? But why wouldn’t she just beat It out of him if she wanted something?

  
“I’m Hermione Granger.” She introduced herself, holding out her hand before suddenly flinching and pulling it back before he could shake it, not that he knew to anyways. “Oh uh, right. I forgot, the doctor said you had a lot of fractures so maybe shaking hands isn’t the best idea. What’s your name?”

Forgetting his confusion over what a fracture was, he hesitantly introduced himself. “Harry Potter.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” She said simply, letting out a small sigh that sounded relieve. “I was ever so thankful to see you wake up just now, you really gave us a fright.”

“W-what happened?” He furrowed his brow in confusion.

“Well, I’m not entirely sure, you see. But what I do know is I spotted you while me and my parents were on our way home from a doctor’s appointment of our own, you were all bruised and bleeding so I ran over and when my parents saw you they quickly called an ambulance and we’ve been checking in since. We managed to convince the doctors to let us stay since no one has been able to find any phone numbers or addresses for your parents.” Hermione explained, frighteningly fast. Harry worried for a moment she may have used up all the air she had as she fiddled with a button on her cardigan nervously. “So I’m glad you’re okay, although I should go let the doctor know now. They said to let them know as soon as you woke up!”

“R-Right.” Harry blinked owlishly.

“I hope we can get your parents here now.” Hermione sighed and Harry looked away sad.

“My parents are dead.” He said bluntly, making the girl freeze before her hand went to her mouth.

“Oh, I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize- I didn’t mean to…. Sorry.” She said flustered, only for the boy to shrug.

“It’s not your fault. They’ve been gone since before I know them.” Harry said, with a sad sigh. Hermione reached the door. “I live with my aunt and uncle.”

“Well, I’m sure your aunt and uncle with will be happy to hear your okay-“

  
Harry immediately shook his head, not even registering when his breathing turned more ragged, even if it was only a slight change. “No they won’t.”

  
“But they most care about you?” She asked as her frown deepened. Harry felt the urge to laugh.

“They’ll be mad I got help.” He answered honestly. He met Hermione’s eyes and she looked sad, before she opened the door.

“I’ll get the doctor…” She said in a very quiet voice, walking off. Harry lied down with a groan.

Way to go, Potter, you just scared off the first person to be nice to you in god knows how long. He could have kicked himself.

He didn’t have long with his mental self-berating however before a doctor arrived, flipping through a clipboard and smiling softly. Harry didn’t take in much of his features but he noticed the man had a very chiselled jaw and striking blue eyes.

“Hello, mister Potter is it?” The doctor asked and Harry nodded. He smiled. “Good to finally have a name to put to the face. I’m doctor Jacob Johnson. Tell me, do you know where you are?”

“A hospital?” The child guessed, vaguely recognizing the room to look somewhat similar to room’s he’d occasionally seen on his aunt Petunia’s TV programme that involved doctor’s a lot.

“Right you are. You were brought in because of the fact that you had passed out in the middle of an alley alone, with several fractures, a distressingly high amount of contusions and even a few lacerations.”

Harry stared blankly at the doctor, who looked back before suddenly gaining a sheepish look. “What’s that mean?”

Then he went wide eyed and flinched, looking away. He’d asked a question! Oh no, oh no…. now he was going to get yelled at and thrown out and-

He missed the narrowing eyes of concern on doctor Johnson as he spoke up.

“Oh right, sorry, I normally deal with older patients. In simpler terms, you had a lot of bruises and a few cuts. Fractures means your bones have broken. Fortunately, its mainly just Greenstick and Transverse fractures which are easy enough to heal, though we’ll have to keep you in the hospital for the week.” Doctor Johnson explained and Harry let out a small ‘Oh’, as he gulped. “Now, can you tell me how to contact your aunt and uncle so I can let them know you’re here?”

Harry looked up with worried eyes and before he knew it he was violently shaking his head. The doctor frowned.

“Please? I need to let them now so they can pick you up at the end of the week. I’m sure there worried, right?” he asked, however there was an edge of suspicion in his voice. Harry looked away. He couldn’t believe he was defying an adult though, he flinched in fear at the thought and the doctor let out a heavy sigh. “Mister Potter, I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me so I can do my job. Alright?”

Harry gulped and looked up, meeting the man’s sympathetic gaze. The Dursley’s had beaten it into him to never talk about them while he was out and about but… didn’t uncle Vernon also get really mad when things got in the way of his job? He’d get mad if Harry got in other people’s way as well, Harry was sure so…

“Can you tell me the truth?” The doctor asked and Harry hesitantly nodded. “Do you know how you got injured.”

Harry paused before swallowing and nodding. A distressed sigh escaped doctor Johnson again.

“Was it someone you know who hurt you?”

“…Y-Yes.”

“Was it someone in your family?”

“Yes.”

“…Mister Potter, is the reason you are in my care right now because your aunt and/or uncle were the ones to injure you to such a degree that you needed medical attention.” The doctor asked one more time and Harry hesitated again one last time before finally nodding and confirming it, not daring to look at the doctor’s face which had turned angry. Had he done something wrong?! “Right, that is quite… disturbing. I will hold off on calling them today then, but I’m afraid I still need their names. Please.”

Harry sighed. He knew he wouldn’t be so lucky as to get away from his tormentors that easily. “Vernon Dursley and Petunia Dursley.”

“Do you know your address?”

“Four Privet Drive, I think.” Harry offered up and the blue eyed man nodded, writing it down.

“Well then, thank you mister Potter. I’d recommend trying to get some more rest for now. You’re injuries will heal mostly naturally while you’re here, we just need you to rest up. I think you’ll be here most of the week.” The doctor informed and Harry nodded before laying down with a sigh. “Would you like me to get you a book?”

Harry looked up at the man confused. “A book?”

“If you want, we have plenty spare to keep you entertained.”

“Y-Yes please!” The green eyed child nodded eagerly, causing the doctors face briefly soften as he smiled.

“I’ll find the best book we have then.” He promised as he walked off, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts for the moment as he laid back down. He vaguely registered the sound of people walking by his door and… was that Hermione’s voice.

“Hermione, don’t be ridiculous.” An older woman said and Harry thought he very slightly recognized the voice. “I’m sure he already has family.”

“But he genuinely thought they would be mad he got help, mum…” Hermione’s voice was quiet but it sounded really upset. “And you saw how he was… I think…”

“Oh.” A male voice spoke up, but it was far softer than most of the male voices Harry knew. It sounded like it belonged to a man who uncle Vernon would probably hate, yet Harry didn’t dare look to check. He sounded worried. “That… That could be an issue.”

“Well, I mean surely a caretaker wouldn’t… Although..” The older woman sounded equally distressed. “…You shouldn’t be thinking about this kind of thing Hermione.”

“But mum!”

“I’m not saying to ignore it, I just… We’ll talk about this in private, alright?” She offered and Hermione sullenly agreed. “I’ll buy you a book on the way home from the gift shop in the meantime, okay?”

“Okay…”

“Harold… Let the doctor know we want to be able to still visit over the week.” The older woman said and there was an affirmation from the male voice who must have been Harold Granger, if the voices were Hermione’s parents.

“Got it, honey. I’ll go look for him. We’ll figure out what to do from there, okay?”

“Yes dear, thank you.”

With that, the voices trailed off too far for Harry to hear them, leaving him to just hum and turn in his bed. What was that about?

Unbeknownst to Harry, he wasn’t alone in the room, as in the corner sat a small bundle of pink energy no one had noticed. Now that it had seen to it that its charge was safe though, the love magic knew it was needed somewhere else more for more pressing matters now that Harry was safe.

* * *

Albus Dumbledore hadn’t changed much since the day he’d sent Harry off to live with his relatives. He’d grown wiser in tiny increments perhaps, though he’d had no major changes to his life since Voldemort’s defeat.

One positive change that had occurred was that Albus was simply happier. Not that he wasn’t worried to a degree, he knew what must didn’t, that Voldemort was still _somewhere_ out there, just bidding his time.

But for the moment, he was defeated, Harry was safe with the love magic and the blood wards and his students were thriving in every house. Aside from the Defence Against the Dark Art’s teaching position, all of Hogwart’s staff was filled up with regulars now who were sticking around more than likely for a long time and he even had a cosy position at the ministry. He may not have been fond of it, but it was nice to know he had it for when he might ever need it.

Indeed, all was well and good as he reviewed a letter from new school governor Lucius Malfoy regarding a potential required lesson plan that Dumbledore was naturally going to shoot down for being too anti-muggleborn.

  
yes, all was well and good, so the last thing he expected was for a piercing scream of rage to suddenly erupt in his office.

“ALBUS WULFRIC PERCIVAL BRIAN DUMBLEDORE!” An all too familiar voice screamed angrily and his eyes immediately shot up to see a pink mass in the vague shape of woman floating there. The wards hadn’t even alerted him.

That was concerning. Still, Albus retrained a neutral face knowing he would come face to face with the magic again someday, though internally he considered that he hadn’t expected it so soon.

“Ah, Lady Love.” He said calmly, standing up and walking around the desk. “To what do I owe the pleasure? Is Harry alright?”

“’Is Harry alright?!’” She shouted angrily, storming up to him with an impressive amount of intimidation for what was essentially in Albus’s eyes just thick pink smoke and light. “No, he is absolutely not alright! And it’s in part your fault!”

Albus paused at that as dread ran up his spine. What had happened to Harry? “I’m afraid I don’t understand. What have I done that has endangered Harry? The last interaction I had with him was leaving him with his relatives.”

“Precisely!” The manifestation of magic shouted, glaring into Albus’s eyes which were lacking the twinkle most knew him to have at the moment. “I told you to ensure his safety and care!”

“And I thought that is what I had done?” Albus shot back questioningly, raising a brow. “Perhaps the Dursley’s were not the best family but they had the blood wards, Lily’s protection-“

“I WAS LILY’S PROTECTION!” Lady roared into the man’s face, dissolving into a cloud of pure magic that seemed far more intimidating then her previous form and that was certainly impressive. “THE BLOOD WARDS WERE FOR PETUNIA DURSLEY, NOT HARRY POTTER!”

Dumbledore gulped. “But that… I had though… I mean I thought he would be safest there. Surely that Is understandable? I admit perhaps it might not have been the most loving environment according to Arabella Figg but he was safe-“

“SEVEN FRACTURES! THREE LACERATIONS NEAR VITAL ARTERIES! CONTUSIONS UPON CONTUSIONS!” Lady screamed indignantly, the pink cloud going dark and swirling around Albus violently, who went wide eyed. “THESE ARE NOT THE INJURIES OF SOMEONE WHO IS _SAFE!_ ”

“I…. I did not-“

“EVEN BEYOND THAT! NO LOVE?! THAT IS NEVER A SAFE ENVIROMENT TO GROW UP IN!” Lady Love snarled violently. “YOU HAD ONE JOB ALBUS DUMBLEDORE AND YOU FAILED IT! IT TOOK ME YEARS TO GET INTO A SITUATION WHERE I COULD SAVE HIM FROM THOSE MONSTERS!”

“Save him?” Albus asked, thoroughly confused now until it hit him. “You do not meant you removed him?!”

“Of course I removed him! He was never safe under those wards in the way you seem to think he was! I. AM. HIS. PROTECTION. And so long as I am the one protecting him I will not permit you to put his safety at risk like that again!”

“But-“

“No! No more! You have caused enough problems.” Lady decided, taking form as a woman once more, yet there were more noticeable human elements appearing this time. Piercing green eyes stared Albus down, one’s he recognized that for the first time in a great many years made him feel small again. “He has spoken, and it has already been decided. I have set the events into motion for Harry Potter to become a part of the Granger family.”

Albus was silent as he took that in.

“They are a family of muggles and their daughter is a muggleborn just waiting to find out about her own magic inheritance, so there is no issue with magic being discovered. So long as you deal with the issue in a way that is not as troublesome as the last time you were given a job to do!” Lady explained sharply. Clearly, she did not have a high opinion of the old wizard. “Ward their house, explain magic, perhaps explain Harry might have some unique elements to him when they take him in and that is it. Hermione Granger herself I leave up to you to decide what to do with.”

“I… understand that this is what you wish for Harry and I suppose I must consider it as you were the one Lily appointed it but surely the blood wards still provide a level of protection no wards on the granger house will-“ Albus didn’t get a chance to finish before pinks smoke suddenly forced its way inside him and he felt so many intense emotions at once he’d not expected.

He saw the muggles, he saw the pain, the fear. The desire to escape. The lack of love. The anguish. He saw it.

He felt it.

He hated it and his heart began to beat rapidly as he realized he was partially responsible for it. He stumbled back as it all faded away and hit his desk, shaking his head as he mumbled. “Oh no… no…. Harry, my boy… what have I done?”

“Something I will not forgive you for, Albus Dumbledore.” Lady Love promised. “But you may yet redeem yourself, so fix this!”

And without a noise the smoke all dissipated away, to leave Albus stewing in silent horror as he realized what he had really done. It wasn’t until a long time later he finally found the strength to cast a silent spell and check on Harry Potter, an image forming in front of him in the air, relieved to see he was safe in a muggle hospital reading some children’s novel called ‘The Cunning Cub and The Daring Snake’ that he seemed enraptured in. Were there not a far more serious matter on his mind, Albus may have spared a chuckle for the title of the book being precisely the opposite of how Hogwart’s ‘Snakes’ and ‘Lions’ acted.

But for the moment, he could merely sigh in relief at the realization Harry was alive and for the moment safe. Curious, he moved on and found young Hermione Granger, finding her going through the books in the hospital gift shop trying to pick one out. Albus wondered if it was coincidence the one she picked up happened to be the same one Harry was currently reading.

He also had to admit he was impressed with the muggleborn girl. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting but her magical signature spoke of someone decently powerful, and that was just as a child. Once this was all sorted out, he’d be eager to see how miss Granger would grow once she came to Hogwarts.

With that settled, he sighed and waved the image away before casting another spell, a silvery ethereal phoenix shot out his wand and perched before him. Albus nodded at it gravely. “Severus, Minerva, I require you in my office urgently. Please do not delay on coming once you receive this message.”

With that, the Phoenix then took flight and disappeared through the walls, taking his message away. It was barely five minutes later when the fireplace had flared green and out had stepped a man in a dark robe with long black greasy hair and crooked nose, his face bearing a look of confusion and irritation. “Headmaster?”

“Severus.” Albus nodded his head towards Severus Snape, just in time for the door to open up and an older woman who was quite tall and severe-looking, her hair in a bun at the back of her head marched in with purpose, her eyes twinkling with worry. “And hello Minerva. Good, no need for delay then.”

“Albus?” The woman, Minerva Mcgonagall asked worried, and the older wizard merely gestured for her to be patient.

“The subject I brought you in for regards young Harry Potter.” Albus explained and Minerva narrowed her eyes a tad yet gave no other indication to her thoughts. Snape meanwhile openly sneered.

“And what can be so urgent about a pampered brat?” He asked snidely. Albus gave him a short glare while Minerva turned to him.

  
“Severus! You don’t even know who he was left with!” She scolded, only for Severus to glower back.

“No but I know exactly how he’ll be. Just like his father I bet and spoiled rot-“

  
“That’s enough.” Albus demanded, cutting the man off and waving a hand, a section of his office turning around to reveal a pensive. “That is not even remotely amusing nor anywhere near the truth, Severus.”

The black haired man raised a brow but remained quiet as he watched the headmaster extract a memory. He then waved both forward. “I fear I did not heed Minerva’s warning when I should have when she told me that the ones I had chosen for Harry were the worst sort of muggles.”

Snape sneered again but stayed quiet, despite clearly thinking snide thoughts in his head. Minerva however looked immensely concerned. Albus just sighed and gestured for them to both dive in. “I warn you, this will not be pleasant to witness.”

And then they were gone, and Albus had to wait. He had told them both about the Lady Of Love eventually, that much they would know about. It was the other stuff that worried him.

Soon enough both pulled out and he just accepted it when he got a semi-harsh slap from Minerva who was shouting angrily at him about how he should have listened to her, how this was on him and how he had to fix it.

Albus agreed on all accounts of course but stayed quiet through it, especially as his gaze shifted over to Severus Snape. The younger man looked… troubled for lack of a better word.

Likely he was going through a crisis of emotions at what he had just saw, until finally he stood up robotically. “I need… time to process this.”

“And you will have it.” Albus assured, cutting Minerva off mid-rant and causing her to glower at him. He gave her an apologetic look before sighing heavily. “For now, we must ensure Harry’s safety and that the Grangers fit that bill, as well as prepare for warding their house and such. Minerva, I would like you to observe the Grangers for a week and confirm if they are suitable guardians. Severus, I would like you to help me with warding when they are out of their house, as you will know the most likely spells and potions potential followers of Voldemort still lurking about might use.”

“And you Albus?”

“I will keep an eye on Harry for the week while I prepare to explain magic to the Grangers and figure out how to go about it, as well as seeing If I can discern just what Lady Love meant by unique elements regarding Harry. Aside from that, I will ensure the Dursley’s understand the transgression they have made.” Albus said firmly, the twinkle in his eye slowly returning. “Also, Minerva, please bring me all the documents about miss Granger for Hogwarts. I have a feeling I will need them.

* * *

The next day, Albus watched Harry from within his office, keeping an eye on the boy when he noticed something interesting. With a quick wave of his wand, audio appeared alongside the image before him as Hermione Granger stepped in. There were some brief pleasantries between the parents of Hermione and Harry himself, as they introduced themselves as Joan Granger and Harold Granger.

After that the mother had sat mostly silent in the corner with a smile as she watched and the man had taken off to go deal with some business call.

“Oh, hello.” Harry said slightly hesitantly as he looked up. Hermione blushed a tad and waved.

“Hello, are you feeling any better Harry?” She asked and he nodded eagerly.

“Yeah. The doctors said I really surprised them. Apparently I healed way faster than they expected.” Harry told her, making Albus lean in curiously, had his magic kicked in around the muggles then?

Either way, Hermione hummed curious. “Odd, I thought that it would have taken a few days if you were in for the whole week…. I’m glad to hear you’re okay then.”

There was an awkward pose after that as the girl looked around as if trying to figure out what to say, before her eyes lit up as she spotted the book on his bedside table. “Oh, are you reading that as well?”

“Huh? Oh yeah. Doctor Johnson gave it me.” Harry explained and the bushy haired girl smiled brightly.

“Oh I picked it up on my way out yesterday! I read it for quite a while! I got halfway through chapter three right after they meet the- Oh, uh, right you may not have got that far.”

  
Harry smiled softly, and there seemed to be something in him that was relaxing. “I got to chapter four.”

“Oh, that’s good to hear. Well I’m at where the Snake and the Lion met the really rude weasel, i’m not sure I much like him as a character, it’s a really enjoyable book though!” Hermione smiled wide, finally taking a breath after her fast speech. After another moment’s awkward silence, Harry looked up.

“Are you staying for long?” He asked, confused.

“Well, I don’t have anything else to do and I just, really wanted to be sure you were alright.” The girl explained shyly and Harry looked as if he’d just seen a unicorn for the first time, before he shyly reached for his book.

“Do you um… want to read it together then?” He asked quietly and the girl’s eyes lit up as she nodded, looking for a chair. When she couldn’t find one she pouted and pointed out as much and Harry scooted aside. “Well there’s way to much room on the bed anyways and we can both see it that way so…”

Hermione immediately rushed over to join him with an excited happy smile and they got into it, having a small argument, if it could even be called that, of who would read until they settled on taking turns, going through three of the chapters together.

All the while the two laughed together, doing voices and being enraptured in each other’s storytelling. Harry even made a childish remark about the lion that meant nothing to Albus but made the girl beside him howl with laughter, which in turn caused him to smile happily,

And it was at that moment Albus slowly began to realize what Lady Love had seen in Hermione.

Perhaps, just perhaps, this really was the best possible thing for Harry then.


	4. Harry Potter-Granger

Harry had latched onto Hermione hard. That was nothing more than undeniable fact by the time the week was closing out for the young raven haired child.

He had never really expected he’d have a friend before but he’d gotten one in the bushy haired girl and while he was always worried she’d suddenly turn around and decide he was a freak not worth her time eventually, it never seemed to come.

She genuinely cared about him, even little injuries. If he accidentally battered his hand off the frame of the bed, she’d fuss over it and make sure he was okay and hadn’t bruised it too much.

  
It was such an odd feeling, one he wasn’t used to, having someone care… but he didn’t want it to go. Maybe that was why he latched onto Hermione so much.

The girl didn’t seem to mind as far as he could tell though, in fact she came to visit every single day just cause Harry had made a comment about it making him happy on the second day that she had come to see him. He’d expected that to be the only visit but it wasn’t.

They mainly read together, though it wasn’t always ‘The Cunning Cub and the Daring Snake’ that they read. Sometimes, Hermione would bring in other books and Harry had to wonder if the Granger house wad connected to a library.

Hermione mainly brought in fiction books such as The Runaways, Fox’s dream and Owl Moon, though she also occasionally brought in some bizarre stuff for a girl her age to be interested in. At least Harry believed it was bizzare. He didn’t know much about America but he was pretty sure most little girls had no interest in reading about random old dead men from its past.

Yet Hermione had brought in not one, not two but three different books about historical American figures, no more than four on British ones, an algebra textbook Harry didn’t understand at all yet Hermione seemed to take as some kind of relaxing hobby book like a colouring book and she even had a book on British railways.

He’d never voice it out loud for fear of driving his new friend away but Hermione was a very odd girl. Then again, he supposed he could be a very odd boy as well.

He’d certainly weirded Hermione out at least twice. The first incident had been on Wednesday and had been mostly harmless. Harry had been in for three days and the two of them had been nearing the middle point of Cunning Cub when Harry had heard a word he’d never heard before and had asked Hermione what exactly a dentist was.

Hermione had frozen at that, and Mrs. Granger who’d been in the room at the time had looked as though she’d taken personal offence to the query. Perhaps she had, as very suddenly she’d talked to Harry for the longest length of time yet as she explained to him exactly who a dentist was and what they did.

Harry had been surprised but also slightly enthralled to listen, curious about the world he’d never got to know much of before. And following that incident, he’d started to manage to talk with the women as well more and more.

Heck, he was even managing conversations with Mr. Granger when the man was around. He had a very calming atmosphere about him, seeming very laid-back and kind. With gentle brown hair, calm blue eyes, a young and kind face and an athletic build in many ways he really did seem the opposite of Vernon Dursley.

Mrs. Granger meanwhile may not have been the exact opposite of Petunia Dursley but she was still nothing like the horse waved woman. In fact, Mrs. Granger looked mostly like an older Hermione with black hair instead of brown and sweet kind teal eyes with a simple concern in them that was a hundred times more comforting to see then any look his aunt had ever given him. She also lacked the buck teeth her daughter had, which seemed to be a unique trait to the youngest Granger.

As for the second time Harry had freaked her out, he had truly genuinely thought he’d blown it. Thought he’d done the worst possible thing and scared Hermione from him.

Revealed he was a freak she didn’t want to associate with. It hadn’t even been for truly good reason, just instinct. Harry was now allowed out of bed by the Thursday and he’d been on the couch with Hermione reading alone, Mrs. Granger at work and Mr. Granger down at the cafeteria getting some food for them.

The two young friends had been close to the end of the book, Hermione had taken over completely as reader as Harry got completely enthralled in her ability to tell stories. She could be a tad dry at times if she got too caught up in the way the logic in the books worked but other than that she could be wonderfully captivating as her own excitement poured into her readings.

Harry had learned in this week alone why books were used for entertainment so much as Hermione had sold him on how fun they could be with her storytelling. And while he wasn’t particular a massive fan of the real stuff, at least not at first, he couldn’t help but still enjoy Hermione’s excitement over sharing that knowledge. With time, he even started to look into it himself as he realized how little of the world the Durlsey’s had ever actually let him find out about and he wanted to know everything they had kept from him, going so far as to read one of the autobiographies Hermione left behind into the night that Thursday.

He was getting ahead of himself though as during the day, as Hermione had gotten near the final chapters of the book, she had gone to grab her glass of water for a drink and misjudged her grasp. She let out a small gasp as she knocked it over and it fell to the floor and on pure instinct Harry, halfway across the room, threw out his hand.

The glass and the water stopped in mid-air and Hermione’s eyes went the widest Harry had ever seen. He put the glass back on the table and only as it thudded down and Hermione’s mouth dropped open he realized exactly what he had just done.

“How did you do that?” Hermione had asked breathlessly, stunned. Harry’s heart had started to race a million miles a minute. What if she hated him now she knew the truth? Was she going to scream at him he was a freak? Run away and leave him?!

His heart had ached hard at that last possibility despite the short period of time he’d known the girl. She was the first truly nice person he’d known, first friend he’d had and he didn’t want to lose her!

Instead however she just tilted her head curiously. “How….”

He… shouldn’t lie. He decided that then, she’d be mad if he lied and there would be an even bigger chance of her running. He just had to suck it up and hope. “I’ve always been able to do that?”

“You have?” Hermione questioned, blinking surprise. Her voice didn’t sound mad it sounded… curious? “Can you do it again?”

It was Harry’s turn to blink this time, having not expected that. He saw no reason not to though so he put out his hand and lifted up two of the books on the table telekinetically, making them dance in the air for a moment before they suddenly zoomed to his hand and he grabbed them.

Hermione started clapping, surprising him. “That’s really impressive! Is that like a magic trick?”

“I… don’t think so.” Harry frowned, not knowing how wrong he was. “I’ve been able to do this since I was a baby.”

Hermione stopped in thought before gasping. Her eyes light up. Then she said something surprised him. “Pick me up!”

“H-Hermione?”

“If you can pick me up I think I know what it is!” She said excitedly and seeing no reason not to, even smiling as the sensation of the power running through him calmed him and Hermione’s excitement and acceptance emboldening him he lifted her into the air with his power.

Well, he tried to. He did succeed but he felt a splitting pain in his head suddenly from the effort, his breathing becoming laboured as Hermione squealed from being brought off the ground. It was only for a moment and only for a few feet but then she dropped and Harry sat down.

He didn’t hear his friend scrambling over but suddenly she was there, holding his water to him which he took thankfully as she started chattering excited.

  
“I don’t believe it! You’re telekinetic, you have telekinesis! But mom and dad said there was no such thing as powers but there were no wires on me so there has to be! Oh this is so good, there must be books on this! Oh I can’t wait to find out everything about this!”

“There’s books on this?” Harry asked stunned and Hermione stopped, staring at him as if he had grown a second head. Honestly it was a miracle this look was only coming now and not when he’d lifted her up with… telekinesis, did she call it?

“Well there has to be! There’s books on everything!” She said firmly. Harry raised a brow.

“Everything? I don’t think you can a book for just anything...”

“Oh I know you can!” Hermione said determinedly with a light glare though it wasn’t an angry one but a determined one. Harry put up his hands in defeat, he wouldn’t argue with it.

Soon enough, Harold Granger had entered the room and Hermione had exploded with excitement going nuts to the man about how Harry could move things with his mind. Harry had worried at first the man would get mad or think he was somehow teaching his daughter bad things like Petunia used to accuse Harry of doing with Dudley.

Instead however the man seemed to chuckle, roll his eyes and brush it off as childish imagination, even though it seemed to upset Hermione a tad that he wouldn’t believe him.

She had gone to say Harry could prove it but had stopped short. Harry assumed she must of saw how Harry felt about it when her eyes glimpsed his face and she suddenly stopped.

However, Harry’s greatest fear was put to rest when Hermione came back with triple the energy she normally had the next day and it didn’t escape the boy’s notice there were several books on a certain subject in her most recent haul.

Harry had read with renewed and excited vigour with his friend and neither had even realized when they’d ended up leaning against each other to read, both to excited to find out more and read more.

And even when they did realize, while both may have been embarrassed, neither rushed to change position if the other didn’t, reading more. Joan, who was the one watching them again, had smiled sweetly at them doing so.

Harry thought he heard the woman mutter something like ‘cute’ under her breathe.

Sadly though, no matter how much he didn’t want it to, all good things must come to an end and the end of the week approached. It was close to time for him to leave and Harry knew there was a good possibility this might be the last time he would see Hermione.

He really hopped doctor Johnson hadn’t walked in on him that Friday night as Harry may or may not have gotten a bit teary at realizing he might be about to lose his new friend whether he liked it or not.

The next day, his final day before he was to be released he’d been quiet and rarely responded, though he looked up with brief hope when he’d heard the door open.

“Hermione?”

Instead, in walked doctor Johnson and a man Harry didn’t know who had a thin body, shaggy black hair and hazel eyes. Harry deflated and sighed, not noticing how the two men shared looks and the doctor nodded at the mystery man.

“Harry, this is Nathaniel Richardson.” Doctor Johnson introduced the man, who sat down and smiled holding up a hand.

“Please, just call me Nathan, or Richard.” The mystery man, Nathan, instructed as he pulled out a letter. “Now, you’re Harry Potter, correct?”

  
“Yes sir.” Harry nodded quietly, not meeting his eye.

“I’m from a special organization. We specialize in dealing with… bad situations with children.” Nathan explained and Harry blinked confused. “Tell me, you stayed with the Dursley’s on number four Privet Drive, correct?”

“Yes…” Harry sighed. The brunet man raised a brow and frowned, adjusting his spot on his seat.

“Right, and please, answer this question completely honestly. This is confidential so the only ones who need to know what you say here are me, you and your doctor here. Now, do you _want_ to return to the Dursley’s?”

“No!” Harry said instantly looking up before covering his mouth, saying in a quiet worried voice. “S-Sorry for shouting.”

“No, it’s okay. Clearly that answers my question.” Nathan frowned as he shared a look with the doctor, both frowning. “Do you feel… safe, with the Dursleys?”

“No.” Harry shakes his head honestly, not daring to look at the adults. He could hear Vernon and Petunia screaming in his ear about how ungrateful and unworthy he was to say that.

“Understandable.” Nathan said instead, making Harry look up in surprise. “I will explain in a moment. Now, do you have any other family?”

“….Only my aunt Marge and she… she’s just as bad as the Durlsey’s.” He opened up a bit, surprised the man was actually listening to him. “She lets her pets loose on me for fun a lot…”

Nathan suddenly snarled and Harry flinched, worried he’d said something wrong.

  
“Sorry, that wasn’t at you Harry, it’s just… that is horrible.” The man sighed, writing down something in a notepad Harry only just realized the man had ready. “Alright, did the Dursley’s ever mistreat you?”

Harry hesitated. What did he say here? Was he mistreated? Or was it normal for a freak like him to be treated that way?

But then, Hermione didn’t seem to think he was a freak for his powers…

“Just tell us how they treated you. Don’t bother trying to filter it, we can work out what is mistreatment. Just be honest…”

And so, Harry, after a deep breath started speaking. He hated talking about the cupboard, the frying pan, the favouritism for Dudley and whatever else came to mind.

By the end Doctor Johnson was leaning by the door with a small look of horror and Nathan looked very angry,

“I see…” Nathan said in a deceptively calm voice, raising his eye to Harry’s one last time. “Last question. Is there anyone at all you feel safe with, or around? Friends? Family? Hell, strangers? Is there anyone?”

“…Hermione.” Harry decided quietly. “Granger. She and her parents f-found me when i… disappeared and she keeps visiting and… She’s my friend…”

“How long have you known her?”

“A week.”

Nathan stopped, then hummed and slowly wrote something before looking up. “You have to stop seeing her.”  
  


Harry went wide eyed.

“No! Please, she’s the only one whose been nice to me! Please don’t take her away, please don’t take my-“

Nathan held up a hand and frowned.

“I’ve heard enough. I’m… deeply sorry for that bluff but I needed to know for sure you were telling the truth on that one first. Alright Harry, do you know what has happened with the Dursley’s?”

Harry sighed in relief that Hermione wasn’t going to have to stop seeing him even if he wasn’t sure he’d get to see her again. He shook his head at the man’s question, having heard nothing about his relatives all week.

“They were found after a mass of noise complaints came in, screaming away in their house like maniacs. The police found their son, Dudley, locked in the cupboard and Vernon and Petunia Dursley screaming their heads off about freaks and brats. They started screaming about how their nephew was at fault for all this which obviously couldn’t be true and a bunch of other odd stuff. Soon enough we heard about you, and realized with the sign in the cupboard saying Harry’s room and a brief look into some family history we realized you’d have to be their nephew.”

Harry nodded, confused. “S-So then you’re what… sending me back to them?”

“Back to- Good heavens no!” Nathan said appalled, making Harry go wide eyed. He wasn’t going back to the Dursley’s?! He was finally getting away from them?! “I wouldn’t send you back there even if my life was on the line! Those monsters were not fit to look after children and they never will again if I have anything to say about it. Along with your own account, you are never going to go back there if I can help it.”

Harry’s excitement undoubtedly showed on his face as he was overwhelmed. “R-Really?! Wait but then… where will I go? Do I have to go to an orphanage? What if they don’t want me… the Durlsey’s said no other family would be willing to take a freak-“  
  
“Stop that.” Nathan said sharply, surprising Harry. “I know it may be hard to realize when they have been putting it in your head for years but you are not a freak Harry. And there are many families who might want you.”

Doctor Johnson smiled. “In fact, I believe you have an appointment with one today, mister Richardson?”

Nathan smiled at Harry as the boy stared in shock. “Yes, one family already visited just two days ago, right after you became estranged from the Durlsey’s as we couldn’t leave them to still be your guardians. Of course, normally there would have been a waiting period, some time for you to adjust, and a chance to meet them first but given the circumstances we figured it couldn’t hurt for the office to meet them at least.”

Harry’s jaw dropped. “B-But who…”

“Hello Harry.” A soft voice said and Harry looked up to see the smiling face of Harold Granger. His heart started beating faster. Was this a dream?! “Hope you don’t mind Doctor but I was walking by and I overheard and well, I thought he might prefer to actually know why from the source.”

“You w-want to…. W-What, adopt me?” Harry asked, stunned and confused. Harold nodded and took a seat. “Why?”

When Nathan and doctor Johnson nodded permission, his… potential adoptive father, oh wow, that was… this was really happening?! His dream for years was finally…

“You see, Harry… Me and Joan, we’d been discussing the idea of siblings for years before we had Hermione. Then we finally had her and we loved her, she was our little bundle of joy, everything to us… and the only kid we could have. Due to… complications Joan couldn’t have another child. We were devastated but we had Hermione and promised to love her as best we could and appreciate what we had.”

Harry nodded, leaning in curious and enraptured. So far though, it sounded like they wouldn’t be adopting because of Hermione though, so…

“But here’s the thing, we still always wanted more than one kid, even if we loved Hermione. You can’t just wipe out a desire like that so easily, so we considered adoption every now and again. We recently actually talked to Hermione about it and she was only all too excited about the prospect of a sibling. She’s always been an innocent only child and I think… she’s reclusive at school, she was excited because it would mean she’d have a friend.”

Harry nodded, that made sense. Wait but then…. His eyes widened.

“You’re dead on the money there if you guessed you’re the first real friend we knew she had. Not that that’s the only reason or anything, it’s just a good extra point to us deciding to apply for adopting you. The second thing was when we found you it wasn’t hard to tell your current guardians were… negligent at best. With everything involved at the first day of hospital we decided to keep an eye on you, both in general to make sure you were okay and to keep an eye on you to make sure you were safe. We heard about the Dursley’s as it was on the news, though your name never got out. It wasn’t hard to put the pieces together though.” Harold hummed, sighing sadly before looking up, his already soft smile somehow getting softer. “In part, our visits were us getting to know you though that’s just coincidence, not intention. We saw how much Hermione seemed to like you and well… mister Richardson?”

“Doctor Johnson has mentioned how you seemed to latch onto young miss Granger.” Nathan hummed, clicking his pen. “Which is a big plus to the Grangers adopting you if you want that, as we think it would be best for your mental health if you were able to still interact with miss Granger. Even if you choose another family, if you want, we’ll make a stipulation you must be allowed to visit the Grangers. We agreed once we met and they explained the situation that, on the condition you agreed to it, they could be the first family we assigned you with. If all goes well, it will be a fairly quick adoption process in terms of actually getting you into their house and we can get started on making them your legal guardians ASAP.”

Harry felt his jaw drop at that, hope swelling rapidly inside him. Mister Granger took over again.

“Anyways, me and my wife knew we don’t know much about you but we do know we can’t just let someone in your situation go without help and well, we can provide it, Hermione really likes you, and I think what really settled it for Joan was when you asked what a dentist was. She’s been muttering to herself ever since how she has to get you into a good home. All things considered, it just makes too much sense not to apply for adopting you and we really do hope you’ll say yes.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open. He rushed to give his answer but Harold continued one more time, sounding a bit nervous.

“Of course, I understand if this it too uncomfortable for you or if you don’t want to think of it as an adoption or something similar, not wanting to call me dad or Joan mum or whatever, we don’t expect you to be that comfortable or that and we-“

“I’d like to be adopted.” Harry said suddenly but firmly. “Please.”

The smile on Harold’s face was a surprising relief for Harry, the older man standing and nodding to the other two. Nathan smiled and rummaged around his bag.

“You’re lucky I keep the preliminary documents on me then and have the authority to get them signed.” He chuckled, pulling out a paper. He gave it to both of them to read over. They both did, being told to sign it in various places.

It was general stuff, mostly for Harold to confirm he would look after him and treat him well as his charge, and would take responsibility as a guardian for Harry. Joan would have to sign it as well when they got to the Grangers house but as it turned out Harry could go today, which was in part the reason for all of this happening now.

So Harry could be discharged into a new house right away that might want him. He’d never been so happy in his life before.

Though one thing that didn’t just make Harry feel happy but make everything in the world feel right…

There was a single section for him alone that regarded how he’d be referred to from now on while under the care of the Grangers. He could keep going by Harry Potter, change to Harry Granger or…

There was a third option, to have a double barrelled name. Harry had never felt more happy or like everything in the world was right then when he signed for the third option.

  
And from that moment on, Harry would always be happy to know he would be known now as:

Harry Potter-Granger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Amusingly, of all the canon stuff I can and likely will fudge up, this i feel is where the most complaint might be on fudging up and I will just come out and admit it, I don't know how adoption works in general, let alone in 1980's-1990's England specifically. Hope this isn't too insultingly inaccurate though.


	5. Settling In

The first week at the Granger household had already beat Harry’s entire life at the Dursley’s, as far as the young boy was concerned. He’d been allowed to go with Harold—his new  _ dad _ —to his new home.

That was so weird to think still. He had a dad now. He had a whole family now. One that wasn’t like the Dursleys, his wildest dream come true.

A smile broke out on his face at that, and it grew wider as he remembered when he’d walked up to the four-bedroom three-bathroom house. The garden was nice and pristine and there had been a tabby cat sat upon the wall watching them curiously.

He had walked in the door with his new father and the older man had told him to be quiet as they snuck into the living room.

Joan- His  _ mother _ , had spotted Harry and smirked, winking before pulling her daughter’s attention to her.

“Hey, Hermione, sweetie. Remember we were telling you about how we were going to adopt someone?” She asked, giggling lightly as her daughter’s head whipped up to her with manic energy.

“Yeah! Did you find out when it’s happening?” She asked excitedly, rocking back and forth. She seemed really happy, it was a stark contrast to how Harry would expect a person to react. His closest experience with a sibling was Dudley and he’d be wailing and throwing tantrums at the idea of a sibling. “Do you know if it’s a brother or sister?! Oh, I really want to share my books with them! I hope they won’t ruin them though… oh, and I hope we’ll be in the same school! And-”

“Alright, alright.” The older woman in the room laughed, putting up her hands. “Calm down, sweetie. It’s a brother.”

“It is?!”

“Yeah… and we lied about there being an appointment next week. It was this week. Look.” She nodded her head over and Hermione turned with confusion, spotting her father before her eyes landed on Harry and her jaw dropped.

“Um, h-hi?” Harry said nervously, hoping Hermione’s reaction was a good sign. As it turned out, it was as her eyes suddenly got a bright twinkle as she hurried forward.

“Harry!” She squealed excitedly and suddenly he was in a tight hug, almost being knocked over. Her parents laughed as Harry shook his head from the impact and awkwardly hugged her back. “You’re my new brother?!”

“If he wants to be. There’s still a trial period and stuff like that.” Her-  _ their _ father waved off, smiling and prying them apart. “Now give him some room to breathe, sweetheart. There’s a good girl.”

Hermione’s cheeks tinged pink when she realized she’d been squeezing the life out of him. She met her friend’s eye and he smiled. He decided to answer her question.

“I want to be your brother.” He said, quiet and shyly but still loud enough that smiles lit up the room. Then he turned to the adults. “Um… what now?”

“Now, I’ll give you a tour. Hermione, your father’s going to go over the new room one more time. Help him please while I show Harry around.” Their mother requested and Hermione nodded excitedly, grinning widely at Harry before rushing to follow her father. Joan walked up to Harry with a very gentle smile. “Well Harry, you already saw the hall. This is the living room.”

“It’s… blue,” Harry observed, looking around. It was indeed very blue, with a dark blue carpet, and lighter blue furniture—two single chairs, a footrest, and one triple seated couch. The wallpaper was navy going up to the white ceiling which had a miniature chandelier hanging above them with fake gold accents.

There was a bulky silver TV in the middle of the room on a dark oak TV cabinet, which was not only holding the TV up but surrounded it on either side with open-faced shelves and even covered the top with two cupboards.

There was a nice crystal patterned glass table in front of the couch.

Joan chuckled with a soft smile. “Very blue.” She leaned down and whispered very conspiratorially, as though uttering a deeply personal secret. “It’s Harold’s favourite colour.”

Harry smiled lightly, much to Joan’s delight, though he didn’t do much more as he wasn’t sure if it would be a bad idea to laugh or not. Oblivious to Harry’s still cautious thoughts, the older woman began speaking again. “Now, once you’re in school, you’ll be in the same schedule as Hermione. When you come home, you let us know right away if you have homework and we do it together in the living room.”

Harry went to say he understood until his mind caught up with what he just heard and instead ended up doing something he immediately regretted. He asked a question. “Wait, I’ll be allowed to do homework?”

Joan froze at that and her smile faded. Harry immediately thought it was his fault and looked down.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask a question.” He immediately apologized, braced for being shouted at or hit. Hands did land on him, but not violently. To his surprise, he was suddenly finding himself in a hug. “Uh… Mrs. Granger?”

“Harry, I will never get mad at you for asking a question, okay?” she asked and he paused, confused. “It’s not bad to be curious and it’s wrong that your old relatives ever told you that it was. Asking questions is how people learn. We encourage Hermione to ask all the questions she can think of and we want you to do the same okay?”

“…O-Okay…” Harry nodded, though he couldn’t help a small part of him wondering if it would just be a trick to get him in trouble in the future. Joan sighed but didn’t comment on it.

“Well, anyways, you definitely will be allowed to do homework here. We expect you to do it, but don’t worry if you need help with it, okay? Hermione is really clever but we don’t expect you to match her just because you’re becoming a part of the family now. We want you to have a happy normal life, okay?”

“Oh… okay.” Harry nodded, hoping she really was truthful. She certainly felt sincere. After that, they had gone into the kitchen, having to pass through the hall to do so. Harry had immediately flinched upon seeing a cupboard under the stairs and Joan’s gaze had turned hard and she had said her next words with conviction.

“Harry, don’t worry. So long as you don’t want to, we will _never_ make you go in that cupboard as long you live, okay?”

“But where will I sleep then?”

He hated how heartbroken the older woman’s eyes looked at that as she pulled him into a side hug. “You have a bedroom, Harry. Your own bedroom, and it’s going to be a safe place for you, alright?”

There had been yet more affirmations and consolations in the kitchen and garden, as Harry asked about cooking and gardening and realized he wasn’t expected to do either of them.

It was so weird to him. Everything the Dursleys forced him to do it seemed he wasn’t expected to do by the Grangers while the things they refused to allow him to do the Grangers typically had no problem with.

The closest thing to being the same Harry could find was neither allowed sweets, however, the reasoning and methods were entirely different. The Dursley’s refused sweets to starve Harry and taunt him by giving them to Dudley.

The Grangers were merely dentists looking out for their children’s health so they didn’t want to allow any sugary sweets. They would allow sugarless sweets occasionally, and on weekends only they could have a small number of sugary goods as long as they didn’t exceed a certain amount of sugar but that was it.

Harry was more than fine with this, however, as it was much better than what he was used to.

Finally, they’d gone upstairs, finding two bedrooms on the very top floor. One door was open, showing a neatly decorated room with dozens upon dozens of books neatly stacked into bookcases and all around, along with a few simple trinkets and small posters on the hot pink walks.

Hermione’s room no doubt.

Dead ahead of them was one of the three bathrooms in the house, that the two children would be expected to share. It was a simple small bathroom, with a white porcelain toilet, shower bath combo, and a sink. It was only big enough to hold the bath and that was it, so it was hardly a large room.

Finally, the room that would be his own. Harry’s first-ever bedroom. It wasn’t much, as he walked in. The walls were a scarlet red, there were a few empty bookshelves dotted about and a few drawers, and a trunk at the bottom of the bed. A small desk sat in the corner with two chairs. The bed itself—meant for one person—was simple with an oak wood frame, in the middle of the room pressed against the rightmost wall as Harry walked in, a gentle green duvet covering over the top.

Hermione and Harold looked up upon hearing them enter and smiled, the latter somewhat sheepishly. “Well, here you are. It’s a bit empty at the moment but give it some time…”

“I love it.” Harry declared simply, smiling as he looked around. And he really did. He loved everything about it.

Following his first day, he’d been given a week off school to get used to the new house plus time for him to be transferred. In the meantime, he continued to read.

He’d found out Hermione had the same book on Latin Dudley had stolen and had happily read that again, understanding it more this time. He also read whatever other books Hermione would let him borrow.

He preferred the fictional stories, but when he was in the right mood he could really enjoy the educational material as well. Perhaps not all of it, Math books were only so entertaining, but he was always happy to learn more about history and he especially enjoyed the few simple chemistry books she had in her possession.

He’d spend his time reading in the living room or talking with the older Grangers, getting to know his new guardians. He was even allowed to watch the TV while the adults were in the room, something which blew his mind consistently, even if he was only allowed a few hours to watch it each day.

Hermione would always get back home with her father at half three, whereupon the whole family would be in the living room, as Hermione worked away happily on whatever homework she had. She always happily showed Harry and walked him through it whenever he asked, happily trying to teach him.

He didn’t always grasp it but he did his best for the girl’s sake and was always happy when he got it and saw her face light up with that happy smile. Mind you, he could admit if there was such a thing as knowing too much, Hermione probably qualified.

He didn’t take any offense to it, he was happy to have someone who would happily talk to him and try to teach him, it was so rare, but she often went off on a lot of tangents and made it quite clear how much she knew.

Harry felt like she was showing off, though he never really mentioned it. Fortunately, her parents seemed to notice and gently chided her into calming down and remembering just because she remembered and knew a lot didn’t mean everyone else would or would enjoy having the information forced on them.

She looked a little put out at first but Harry had assured her he liked learning. Fortunately, Hermione did seem to understand maybe she shouldn’t go off on rants all the time, though learning not to was definitely going to be slow going.

Once homework was finished, they’d all gather in the kitchen which had a four-person table and they’d eat whatever healthy meal Joan had cooked that night. Harry couldn’t help but notice he always seemed to have exceptionally large helpings and with some prodding discovered it was because he was underweight and needed extra helpings to make up for it.

He had no idea how to respond to that so he simply hadn’t, just eating patiently. At least Hermione hadn’t seemed too jealous about it. Following that, the kids were free to either hang out in the living room or go up to their rooms. Either way, Harry and Hermione usually always ended up reading together.

They finally finished their first book and continued to foray into books about Telekinetic and other such subjects happily, even if Harry had to prove multiple times to Hermione he had his abilities after her father brushed them off.

It was this brushing off of his powers that worried Harry though. What if the powers would upset his guardians? What if they didn’t like him once they found out? Would they finally realize why the Dursley’s considered him a freak and throw him out?

It was for this reason Harry continued to hide his special talents from the two older Grangers. He trusted Hermione, but he was too scared to use his abilities if he didn’t have to.

Of course, funny enough, whenever Harry didn’t want to do something, that tended to be when something would come along and force him to do it.

And on Monday, such a situation did come when he finally joined Hermione for school. It wasn’t far from their home, Crossdale Primary School being only a ten-minute walk away. Harry could have sworn he’d seen the same Tabby from the start of the week following them.

When they’d arrived, Hermione had set off for a line of children waiting outside for their teacher while Harry had been taken inside by Harold and up to an office where he’d met the headmaster of the school.

Before he knew it, barely ten minutes later, Harold was leaving and Harry was being brought into his new class, where he was immensely pleased to see Hermione.

He had to introduce himself to the class and they all said hi back before Harry was then settled into the only empty seat. By luck, it happened to be beside Hermione.

However, a part of Harry couldn’t help but wonder and worry about his newly adoptive sister. She had been separated from everyone else. Was it intentional she was the one seated alone?

He decided he could ask when they got home. In the meantime, they had done basic multiplication in Math, punctuation in English, learned how to use computers in I.T., and done a skip rope game in P.E.

Every time he was expected to have a partner, he had gone to Hermione who had happily taken him each time, though he was upset to see no one else ever tried to go to her first.

No one seemed to want to take her on to their team and he was reminded uncomfortably of when Dudley would scare everyone away from picking Harry.

Finally, lunch had come around and the two new adoptive siblings had been eating together outside, Hermione squealing happily and speaking a hundred miles a minute explaining her delight at being in the same class as Harry when it happened.

A group of mean-looking boys—trounced in nasty looks only by Dudley’s gang—along with two sneering girls who Harry rather thought could do with tripping so they’d fall on their faces in the hopes they might break their nose and fix their bad looks, walked up to the siblings.

“Well, look at that. Granger actually found someone stupid enough to hang out with her.” One of the boys had laughed when they’d got closer, before turning to Harry. “You should get far away from her. She’s a total freak!”

And that… that was the wrong thing to say to Harry.

“Excuse you?” he asked in a calm but dangerous voice, more bravely than he felt as his eyes narrowed into a glare. He grabbed Hermione’s hand and squeezed it gently as he’d caught her flinch out the corner of her eye.

“I said she’s a-“

“She’s my sister.” Harry snarled, surprised by how natural the words came to him even though it had only been two weeks, as he stood up calmly. “Leave her alone.”

“Harry, no! he’s not worth it!” Hermione warned but Harry stood his ground.

“Another Granger? You don’t look as stupid as her.”

“Shut up!”

“Oh, what’s the matter?” The leader sneered cruelly with mirth in his eyes. “You should know if you’re her brother how weird she is. What are you going to do? Hit me?”

He was baiting him. Harry knew it. He’d seen it happen before. He wasn’t going to take it. Instead, Harry gave a cold glare.

“I don’t need to,” Harry announced, very briefly looking around before throwing one hand to the side and causing all of the group’s legs to sweep out from under them, throwing them to the ground. With a grunt, Harry turned and grabbed Hermione, hoisting her up and hugging her as he heard her small sniffle as she flinched. “Come on Hermione. They’re not worth it. Let’s go find somewhere else to sit.”

Hermione had thanked him for his actions but she hadn’t cheered up at all, for the rest of the day. No matter his best efforts, Hermione had gone from being the excited know-it-all ball of energy he was used to, to quiet and reserved, only talking when she was responding to a question.

Even on the car ride home, she had been quiet, even as Harry tried to just hug her in the hopes it would cheer her up. Sadly, it seemed Harold was somewhat used to this as he hadn’t seemed entirely surprised to find Hermione like this.

They’d gotten back home and Hermione had gone straight to her room instead of sharing her homework or anything. Joan had just sighed and told Harry if he had any to leave it on the table and they could deal with it later.

They had no homework, however, so Harry had done what seemed like the right thing to him. He’d gone into the kitchen and poured a glass of water before making his way upstairs.

He knocked gently on the door along from his room. “Hermione? It’s me.”

“Go away...” He heard a small upset voice. Harry frowned.

“I have some water…”

“Just put it outside the door.” Came the same small voice. But Harry shook his head, before opening the door. Hermione looked over and frowned, looking away. “I don’t want to talk.”

“That’s fine.” Harry shrugged, walking forward and putting the water down on the table before sitting down beside her. “You don’t need to. Those guys were jerks though. Don’t listen to them.”

“But-“

“I don’t think you’re a freak,” Harry said simply. “And if anyone should know what a freak is…”

“You’re not a freak either!” Hermione immediately scolded, frowning at him. “You shouldn’t have attacked them though… I’m not worth it.”

“Yes, you are.” Harry shot back immediately and the girl looked like she was about to object. Harry sighed. Then he got an idea.

Hermione needed cheering up. What always cheered him up? “Hey, Hermione? Watch this.”

She looked up confused until she saw a few of her books lift off the shelves, spotting Harry’s hands held out as he focused with a deep concentration, the books coming over and dancing around them in a pattern.

One came over and gently pressed against the girl’s cheek before joining the others and despite herself, she giggled as she watched the show. Harry smiled as well as he made them do more complicated moves such as flips in the air, and loop-de-loops, enjoying Hermione’s delight in it all the while.

And then Harold walked in.

“Well I’m glad to see you’re happ—“ He stopped as he saw the books and his eyes widened as he froze. Harry immediately froze as well as his own smile turned to a look of worry and fear and he dropped them all. “What the… How did… what….”

“A-Ah! Sir! I’m sorry!” Harry immediately apologized. “I’ve always been able to do it; I just didn’t want to upset you! I’m sorry!”

“Upset- Harry calm down!” he immediately instructed, walking over. Hermione looked between them with a confused and worried expression, while her father furrowed his brow in confusion. “Harry, how did you do that?”

“I’ve always been able to do it…” Harry answered quietly, looking scared. Harold blinked.

“It’s not rope?” He asked, seemingly trying to find a logical explanation. Harry shook his head.

“No.” The raven-haired boy said as he made the glass float over, proving as much when he made the water come out and go back down. “No rope. I’m sorry.”

“…For what?” Harold asked confused, raising a brow.

“For being a frea-“

“Harry! You are not a freak!” Harold interrupted immediately standing up. He let out a sigh. “I… this… I don’t know what this is but you’re not a freak. Come on. Both of you, let’s go downstairs.”

“Dad?” Hermione asked, confused. “Why?”

“Because you said he could move things with his mind in the hospital and I didn’t believe you. Clearly, you were right though. This makes no sense… there’s got to be an explanation… but Joan has to know first.” He shook his head. Then he saw Harry’s apprehensive face and his gaze softened and despite his confusion, he gave a calm smile. “You’re not in trouble, I promise.”

That calmed Harry down a bit and he nodded, following the man, Hermione right behind him. Soon enough, all three were at the table with Joan looking around them confused at the faces she was seeing.

“Harold? Did something happen?” Joan asked, confused. Harold shook his head, sitting the children down before setting the water down on the table.

“Well… yes but nothing bad. However… I just can’t wrap my head around it.” Harold frowned. “You remember Hermione talking about moving things with her mind while Harry was in hospital?”

“Of course.” Joan raised an eyebrow. “I told her, she’s just got an overactive imagination.”

“I said the same thing but… Harry, please. You won’t get into trouble.” Harold gently coaxed. Joan looked at her husband extremely confused until Harry sighed and put out a shaky hand… and the glass rose into the air before coming into Harry’s hand.

“…What?”

“I don’t know…”

“How is that possible?!”

“I don’t know!”

“Um… is this… am I not allowed to stay anymore?” Harry spat out the question on his mind and both parents went wide-eyed in alarm. “The Dursley’s hated-“

“We aren’t the Dursleys.” Joan immediately reminded him. “You are not going anywhere just because of this. Okay? There’s a simple, logical explanation. There has to be. There is no need to worry, okay? We won’t throw you out. I just need to figure out… how….”

There was silence for a moment as both older adults were deep in thought. Then very suddenly, a laugh made them all jump and turn to the door, all going wide-eyed as they saw an elderly man with a long flowing white beard and elegant silver hair.

“Dear me. I do apologize for entering unannounced but I could sense what was going on already.” The stranger hummed, a twinkle in his eye behind his half-moon spectacles. He wore a set of royal blue robes with purple stars on them.

“Who on earth are you?! What are you-“

The man held up a hand and smiled a very kind, grandfatherly smile. “I understand you might be worried by my presence. I do not blame you. I had intended to come in a little later but I could sense the magic young Mr. Potter was performing and knew I needed to intervene.”

“Magic?! What-“ Joan didn’t finish as her eyes went wide before narrowing suspiciously. “How do you know his name?!”

“Harry Potter. It’s a name _very_ well-known where I’m from.” The man said mysteriously and Harry felt very confused as the Grangers all shared looks. “Perhaps, introductions are in order? I am aware you are the Grangers. My name is Albus Dumbledore and well… I have come to inform you that young Harry and Hermione are a wizard and witch, respectively.”


	6. The Wizarding World

“I have come to inform you that young Harry and Hermione are a wizard and witch, respectively,” Albus stated and the room seemed to freeze. The two adults in the room other than himself looked between each other before hard glares came upon their faces. Albus sighed. Muggles never were easy to convince at first.

“Now hold on just a minute. I don’t know who you are but you can’t just break and enter and then—“ The new father of Harry, Mr. Granger, began. Albus barely listened, instead musing on how odd it would be to have to learn to think of the man as such. “But you can’t just come in and declare such nonsense. And to call our daughter a witch!?”

“Oh, but it’s all true. I assure you,” The oldest occupant of the room said calmly, ignoring the bewildered and skeptical looks of the adults, and merely smiled at the confused and curious faces of the children.

“I’m- we’re magic?” Harry asked, very confused. Albus merely chuckled. ‘Ah, youth.’

“No, there’s a different explanation-“ Mrs. Granger began until Albus pulled out his wand.

“Apologies but this will be quicker.” The elderly wizard said as a way of explanation upon noticing the other adults jump before pointing the wand at the glass of water. “Evaporo!”

There was a sudden blue light that ripped out the tip of his wand hitting the glass and all eyes briefly turned to it, where they all saw the water evaporate suddenly.

“Accio!”

And with another cry, the glass threw right towards the old headmaster who caught it with a smile. Several eyes went wide, causing Albus to chuckle. “Perhaps that has made it clear I speak the truth?”

“You’re… that…” Harold Granger blinked in shock before suddenly dropping onto the couch, looking as if his entire world had been blown open in front of him. Joan Granger quickly brought her two children behind her protectively, still eyeing the man with worry but clearly, her own doubt was slipping. “Magic…”

“Now, let us try this again. As I said, my name is Albus Dumbledore. I am the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and I am here to inform you that both your children are a witch and a wizard. Unlike how it might appear to you, I do not mean to insult your daughter. In fact, it’s quite the compliment.” Albus smiled, silently waving his wand beneath him and conjuring a chair for him to sit down in. Then he pointed his wand at the glass again. “Aguamenti. Ah, lovely. Califictilem.”

The glass filled with water, before suddenly shifting before their very eyes into a porcelain mug. Albus smiled and pointed his wand last time, speaking calmly “Calicemtee.”

And suddenly the familiar scent of tea filled the room as hot caramel coloured liquid poured out of Albus’ wand right into the cup, finishing after a moment as he looked up with a kind smile. “Dear me, I do apologize but I never was fond of accepting beverages prepared by another. I used to accept this delightful brew from an old friend of mind, Clover Kettlethorn. Lovely young lady, but she had enough eccentricities to make even me look like all my eggs were in one basket. Served me plenty of good brews, it wasn't until a good year later I realized she brewed them with dead rats inside she took out before serving. Rather put me off accepting Tea from others.”

The rest of the room went green-faced at the story and Albus nodded, taking a sip of the tea before putting it down. “Enough about unfortunate beverage concoctions though, I am sure you have questions. Mr. Granger, perhaps you would like to begin?”

That certainly worked to snap Harold back into action and he narrowed his eyes as he took a deep breath. “Alright so…. I can still scarcely believe it but… Magic is real? And you are a wizard?”

“It is indeed, and indeed I am.” The headmaster nodded with a smile. “A wizard is a male human who can perform magic, typically via the aid of a wand, and concoct certain… medicines muggles cannot, witches are merely the female variant.”

“Muggles?” Joan spoke up next, raising a brow as her arm slowly dropped and Albus noted both young Harry and Hermione were leaning in, listening intently to the old man.

“Ah, of course, you won’t know the term. You and your husband are what we magicals would call muggles, non-magic people.” The silver-haired wizard’s eyes drifted over to Hermione, her brown eyes wide as she seemed to be absorbing everything she heard much to his amusement. He could sense an inquisitive mind, perhaps she’d be one of the top students one day. One could only hope. “And your daughter, young miss Granger there, she is what is known as a muggleborn. It is rare but there are always a few born every year. Muggleborns are wizards or witches who have muggle parents, but they themselves are born with magic.”

“And how do you know all this?” Joan narrowed her eyes dangerously. “Have you been stalking us?”

“Stalking? Dear me no.” Albus shook his head. “In fact, I would not have even known of your existence until miss Granger would have received her Hogwarts letter when she was eleven normally. The circumstances changed however when you adopted young Mr. Potter here.”

“How do you know we’re adopting him?” Harold demanded, shifting protectively as though ready to protect Harry in case Albus tried something. He wouldn’t of course but it pleased the old wizard immensely to see he took his still-new role as father to the boy seriously. That was much better than the Dursleys already.

“All magical children, who are born to muggles or living with muggles, are assigned a magical guardian. Someone who has been in the magical world for a substantial length of time so that they may look out for them while they are still adjusting to the new world. Lily and James Potter assigned me as young Harry’s magical guardian personally.” The wizard explained, noticing young Harry’s eyes go wide behind his glasses.

“You knew my birth parents?” He asked before he could stop himself or anyone else could ask anything, looking shocked.

“Oh yes, they were my students.” Albus smiled sadly, letting out a wistful sigh. “James was quite good at transfiguration, always made for a good conversational partner on the subject as I used to be a teacher. Lily meanwhile, was undoubtedly the brightest young witch I had met in all her years at Hogwarts. She very occasionally even put me to shame in magical theory, and that was no small feat. Going back to what I was saying before, you Harry, are a half-blood. Your mother was a muggleborn like Miss Granger and your father was what is known as a pureblood; someone born to two pureblood parents who have always had magic.”

“Hang on… you knew the boy’s parents… you were assigned as his guardian?” Joan seemed to be putting the pieces together and her eyes flashed dangerously. “Did you know who he was put with?!”

Albus sighed sadly. “Unfortunately, I did. I must inform you before you react though I had no idea they would act as they did. If I did, I never would have left Harry with them.”

“You’re the one who put him in that house?!” Joan snarled as she stormed up to the old man who merely waited.

“I am afraid so—“

SMACK!

Albus’ eyes went wide as he staggered somewhat, caught off guard by the slap to the face. Harold immediately jumped up and pulled his wife back, wincing a tad.

“Now honey, calm down. We can handle… that later. Let's not get aggressive before we know everything.” His eyes hardened as he turned to the old man though. “But you better have a very good reason.”

“Thank you… and I thought I did.” The wizard sighed as he sat back down, ignoring his face and resisting the urge to smile as Harry and Hermione seemed to be struggling to keep themselves from laughing, leaning against one another for support. The smile died anyway though as he remembered what he had to say. “Harry’s mother… She put a charm on her sister and her family. A special kind of protection, that would always be active as long as someone of her blood could call it home. So long as Harry lived with his aunt, those protections would continue to exist.”

“Fat lot of good they did at protecting him.” Joan hissed, making the older man wince lightly at the rightful anger in her voice.

“I’m afraid danger from the family never occurred to me, I was far too focused on his parent’s murderer—“

“WHAT!?”

“Murder?!”

Harry blinked slowly, ignoring the horrified eyes of his new parents and Hermione’s sudden death grip on him. “Sir? Mister Dumbledore? My parents died in a car crash…”

Now _that_ took the wind out of Albus’ sails. He went wide-eyed, before looking down as a brief moment of horror overtook him before he schooled his features, looking up. “A… car crash?”

“Aunt Petunia always told me if I asked that they were drunk and got in a car crash…” Harry explained quietly, looking shy and confused. Albus felt his heart break.

“Then it is much worse than I feared… I had thought she would at least tell you the truth…”

“And what is the truth?!” Joan demanded, glaring at the man. “What do you know about him that he doesn’t?”

“Unfortunately, a fair bit.” Albus sighed, before looking up. “I understand you may not wish to trust me, but please allow me to speak. I had never intended to reveal this until Harry was of a more… suitable age but it seems it must be done. I believe the best place to start would be to find a good example in your muggle history to draw from… World War Two is the example I believe would be best.”

Both adults in the room immediately shuddered, going wide-eyed and looking horrified merely from the mention of the war. Albus sighed, he could hardly blame them.

“You see, there is a whole society of magical people hidden from the muggles of Britain, but while we may have some obvious differences, there are some sad aspects that connect us all. Violence, discrimination. In our world, we very recently only just ended our worst conflict in years. It was only six years ago that Lord Voldemort was defeated.”

“Voldemort?” Harold raised a brow incredulously. “That’s an… odd name.”

“He did fashion it for himself and he was an… odd one to be sure, even as a child.” Albus hummed before sighing. “He, along with several extremists in our world, believed that purebloods were superior to every other wizard or witch and that muggles like yourself were… pests, to put it nicely.”

“Oh great, so he was magical Hitler?” Joan realized, feeling sick that someone like that could have existed only a few years ago.

“That would be the best example for you to understand the terribleness of him, yes. He had reigned terror on our world for quite some time, most people to this day are sadly still too afraid to speak his name. Many official publications only referred to him as ‘You-Know-Who’ or ‘He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named’. It’s rather a shame really, someday we’ll have no idea who we were even talking about.”

“That’s… they won’t even say his name?” Harold repeated, sounding dumbstruck and yet sick at the same time, and with good reason. Albus could see the sensible question swimming in his eyes. ‘What kind of things did he do that made people afraid to just speak his name?’

“I cannot repeat a great many of his crimes with children present. Were it my choice I would not repeat any… but Harry deserves to know what truly happened to his birth parents.” Albus said firmly, making it clear there would be no room for argument. Fortunately, it seemed the adults wanted to know as well. “You see, of course, whenever someone rises like that, there are the brave who will fight back. I myself once helped lead those fighting him and then… we found out he had targeted Lily and James Potter for reasons unknown to most people. Harry was only a one-year-old when Lily and James had already gone into hiding, but sadly… Voldemort was a powerful man, and there was an unfortunate oversight in security. The charm we were using fell prey to one unforeseen issue. There had been a traitor among us and one who James and Lily trusted blindly at that. They trusted him enough that they refused to allow me to be the one who dealt with the spell keeping them safe, and so the traitor ran off to inform his master. Voldemort appeared in Godric’s Hollow where the Potters were hiding that Halloween. I will spare you the grisly details but…”

“My mum and dad were killed…” Harry said quietly, yet the weight of the words brought everyone in the room down as it settled in with them all. There was a sniffle and suddenly Hermione was holding her brother by the neck, hugging him as tightly as possible. Harry hugged her back slowly, seemingly lost as he processed that.

“Yes… I’m sorry my boy.” The old wizard sighed, before looking up. “But, the story does not end there. Something immensely curious happened that night, you see. No one is entirely sure how, but… well there are several types of magic in this world. One of them is an incredibly powerful variant known as love magic.” Albus explained, able to sense it radiating off of Harry even if he didn’t show it. “From what I’ve been able to gather, your mother made a desperate move Harry. To ensure your survival, she sacrificed herself for a spell. A spell that would bind the very essence of said love magic to you, to protect you.”

All eyes looked up at that, curious of the implications. Harry’s eyes widened, and he seemed to be putting the pieces together in his mind. Albus was not yet done though. “Voldemort was a monster. He had turned his sight onto Harry and thus, he was determined to kill Harry. That he was only an infant made no difference to him. Yet Lily’s spell, it did its part. When Voldemort tried to kill Harry, the spell I assume was shielded or somehow otherwise deflected back onto Voldemort, destroying him and the house in the process. Mind you, at least a part of it must have grazed Harry when it happened, as that is where his unique scar came from.”

“So he’s dead?” Joan asked, sighing in relief. The idea that there was a maniac out there that wanted to kill her soon clearly hadn’t done much good for her life expectancy.

“As far as anyone knows, yes. I would not rule out the possibility his followers might try to somehow resurrect him, but the likelihood of success is minimal, as most are caught or otherwise in bad positions to act upon their old ideals.” Albus said cautiously. He figured it would be best not to worry the Grangers with just what positions the Death Eaters were actually in nowadays, they had enough to process. “As for Harry himself, however, Lily’s spell caused a few… interesting side effects. Before I get to that though, I would like to turn my attention to young Hermione.”

The little girl blinked in surprise as she looked over, tilting her head confused and making her bushy hair bounce as she did so. “Me, sir?”

“Yes. I must ask, have you ever done anything… strange? Something happened around you that might seem impossible?” He asked and her eyes widened.

“Oh! Oh! Sometimes when I really want a book I’ll find it on my bed.” Hermione said. “And uh… the lights always turn on when I’m scared in the dark…”

“And there was that time she had a water balloon fight with the old neighbours and the balloon exploded with far more water than should have been in it.” Joan realized suddenly, her jaw dropping open, which was quickly followed by Harold who had his own realization.

“There was that time she started when the clown program came on when she was a toddler and the TV turned off on its own.”

“Accidental magic.” Albus declared with a small smile. “And quite the healthy amount too for a loving household. It sounds like miss Granger will be a talented witch when she comes of age to learn at Hogwarts. That, however, is what is normal for a magic child. You see, these incidents of accidental magic aside, a witch or wizard never uses magic until they are old enough to purchase a wand and begin learning. Let’s say it was Miss Granger, the first thing she’d do, assuming she didn’t try any spells before reaching Hogwarts of course, would be learning how to make different coloured sparks fly off her wand. It’s the most basic spell used to teach children how wand magic works and how intent affects the results. Ah, but I’m rambling. I’m sure you’ve noticed by now; young Harry doesn’t follow this rule.”

Assuming that was his cue, Harry raised a pencil on the table with a hand. “You mean this, sir?”

“I do indeed.” Albus nodded, eyes twinkling as he watched the display. “You see, there are several curious aspects to this, not least of all the fact you are performing wandless and non-verbal magic at your age.”

“And what aspects are those?” Harold spoke, suddenly trying to regain control. It was clear with a quick look in his eyes that he was worried. Albus was pleased to note it was worry _for_ his son and not because of his son though.

“Well, it seems to be a combination of the levitation charm, Wingardium Leviosa, which is a simple first year charm, and the more advanced fourth year summoning charm, Accio.” Albus summarized, displaying both spells non-verbally with his wand on a second pencil on the table. “This gives the impression Mr. Potter is telekinetic, it would appear. It is nothing I have ever seen before, but it is quite the useful ability to possess. What is even more interesting, is that the magical signature that is registered when it’s used isn’t his own.”

“It’s not?” Harry questioned, tilting his head. “Whose is it then, sir?”

“Most curiously, it would appear to be Lily’s,” Albus explained, sighing. “It would appear, her spell imparted some of her own magic into you. This means that the Ministry of Magic, that is our government, cannot trace your magic correctly. It registers as adult magic.”

“What does that mean, then?” Joan asked, confused. Albus chuckled.

“It means that even when Harry one day attends Hogwarts, so long as the magic he uses is only his natural abilities at home, he cannot get in trouble for it as it will not register as him breaking the decree against underage magic. That is a long time off though. Now… I believe there’s another ability you have that has yet to be seen.”

“Sir?” The boy asked, confused.

“Is there anything else you can’t explain that you do often, Harry?” Albus prompted and the boy stopped, looking confused as he began thinking until his eyes suddenly lit up with understanding.

“I uh... heal really fast sir.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I uh… w-whenever I get a cut it always fixes itself once I feel safe again and my bruises always fade super fast. All my injuries in the hospital healed overnight…”

“Extraordinary,” Albus muttered, more to himself than anything, before standing up. “It would appear the protection your mother truly laid upon you is that then. Wizards and witches can heal much faster than muggles, it is why we have a life expectancy that always goes above a hundred so long as we do not suffer any accidents. I wonder if it only applies to yourself? Ah, but all that is for another day. Now I can reach the true point of my visit.”

Everyone perked up at that.

“Normally, we do not inform muggle parents of the wizarding world until their children and charges are ready to enter school but I had to make an exception for Harry for his special ability. You see, there is a thing known as the statute of secrecy. The burnings, while ineffective, did make us think it would be best to withdraw from muggles and hide. It is considered a felony to violate the statute unless it is absolutely necessary.”

“So I have to hide my magic?” Harry asked, catching on and frowning. “So I am a f-“

“Harry! You are not a freak!” Joan immediately reprimanded, walking over and hugging him. The twinkle left Albus’ eyes as he remembered why it was the Grangers he was talking with and not the Dursleys.

“She is right. You are merely a more powerful than average wizard.” He assured the child before sighing. “Of course, I had wanted to leave you out of this for as long as possible so you did not have to suffer knowing this but… you are also quite possibly the most famous person in the entire wizarding world.”

The entire room went quiet at that. Joan raised to her feet again.

“Why?”

“I’m afraid… Many believe Harry himself was somehow responsible for deflecting the curse, through some combination of trauma, fear, and accidental magic, causing it to rebound and kill Voldemort. Sadly, this is an unfortunate yet common belief that places him as the hero of the story and due to that… Undoubtedly if and when Harry joins the wizarding world he will be a celebrity. Halloween is now also known by many as Harry Potter day in the wizarding world.”

“That’s… that’s sick,” Harold said after a moment, looking green. Albus nodded his head.

“Sadly, I can do nothing about it. I understand if this and the revelation about Voldemort makes you cautious about our world but I would implore you to wait on a decision about sending your own daughter until the official Hogwarts letter comes through. I am merely here as Harry’s magical guardian today, to officially recognize you as his guardians and warn you about the things you needed to know regarding his… unique attributes. I will tell you this though, suppressing any witch or wizard’s magic is a very bad idea. It could even kill them if it was too suppressed. Harry was unfortunate enough to be tied up with some bad apples in our world by bad luck but remember we are no more than people, and for Hogwarts, all we want is to teach them how to safely use their abilities. You have already seen what just a few bits of magic are capable of, and I assure you there are hundreds more things they could learn. You will still look after Harry?”

“He’s our son.” Joan declared fiercely, glaring into the headmaster’s eyes. “Nothing is changing that, we already told him we’d look after him.”

Albus smiled.

“I am glad to hear it. In that case, I, Albus Wulfric Percival Brian Dumbledore, do hereby recognize you, Joan Granger, and you, Harold Granger, as Harry’s guardians.”

Suddenly, the room felt a lot warmer to them all and the old wizard smiled.

“Nothing to be alarmed about, I merely have recognized you as his guardians in the magical world. You may still be in the process of adopting in your muggle society but you are now, in the eyes of magic and its world, family. I truly hope you have a happy and prosperous future. I give you all my best.”

“Wait!” Harry cried out suddenly, stopping Albus. He raised a brow as he met the young boy’s eyes.

“Is something the matter, Harry?”

“...You keep calling me Potter… but I’m a Potter-Granger now!” He said simply but stubbornly. Albus smiled though at the implications of the boy saying so.

  
“Of course, my mistake. I will ensure it is noted as so when I return to Hogwarts, Mr. Potter-Granger, though I warn you most of the world will likely always know you as Harry Potter. Still, I will make sure you are officially known by the name you wish to be. Now, I must be off. Best wishes to you all.”

And suddenly, with a crack, the old wizard disapparated, appearing in his office. He smiled as he sat down on his desk.

It may not have been his original plan but Harry was with people who clearly cared for him. He was with a good family.

He could accept this. He’d keep an eye on them for another year and then, hopefully, he could move on until it was time for the young man to come to Hogwarts.

Though he didn’t know it for sure, he had a feeling the Lady of Love would commend him if she could see him at the moment, for making things right.

He was right.


	7. Growing Up

Amazingly, following the visit from Dumbledore, life at the Grangers seemed to make more sense rather than less. None of them had expected that when they’d been confronted with the stranger who had turned their life upside down in the matter of mere hours yet that was the case.

Now Joan and Harold understood that the lights flickering when scary movies were playing on the TV or people were shouting outside wasn’t faulty electricity but Hermione’s—and now probably Harry’s—accidental magic at work.

They had taken to the revelation of Harry’s abilities and fame surprisingly well. There had been an anxiety-inducing week of stress where Harry had been sure they’d have it settle in eventually and change their minds. Famous for murdered parents? Abnormal even amongst  _ wizards _ ? And wow, was it so strange to think wizards existed!

But to their credit, his adoptive parents were made of tougher stuff and made their stance abundantly clear over and over. They had promised to take Harry in and they weren’t backing out now, especially for things he couldn’t control.

Harry had never felt so loved before in his life, at least in his memory. Still, rules had been imposed and Harry did his best to follow them. Harry never used his powers in public, keeping them to when he was inside the house and while his healing may have had a blanket pass, his telekinesis did not.

He was given two hours of practice every day, and he was allowed to use it for tasks when given permission but his mother had made it abundantly clear that he would still learn to do things the muggle way. She didn’t want him out of his depth if he ever somehow lost his abilities.

Beyond that, Harry suspected another reason was to keep Hermione from getting jealous. An owl of all things had arrived outside their window a week after Dumbledore’s first visit informing them they could write any follow-up questions and send it back with the owl.

They had a few and a few weeks later they even managed to convince the old wizard to return for the sake of putting some protections on the house. 

(Dumbledore led the group outside, using a notice-me-not spell to avoid suspicion from their neighbours as they stood in the front yard.

“Now children, the spell I’m going to use will work even better if it is able to tell who you consider enemies and not just me. Hold on to me, please,” The old wizard instructed, and the two young Grangers did so as the man raised his wand. “Introvetis!”

Both children let out gasps of amazement as a smoky grey wisp escaped Dumbledore’s wand and washed over their house, forming a barrier briefly before it faded. The old wizard then turned to the children with a smile, a familiar twinkle in his eyes as he began to explain what he’d just done.

“A strong spell, a ward that draws upon the caster's own strength, that prevents anyone the caster considers to be an enemy from stepping over the threshold. I had the children hold on so their own influence could be exerted on the spell so that it will keep out anyone they don’t trust as well. With it drawing upon my own power, this is the most powerful protection I can give you.” Dumbledore had informed them once it was over. They all felt much safer knowing that spell was on their house.)

They had all collectively agreed it would be for the best if they kept themselves as separated from the magical world as possible until it was time for Harry and Hermione to enter it. Harold had briefly tried to investigate into other schools but ultimately decided against it upon realizing Hogwarts was universally considered one of the best schools around, and knowing Harry’s birth parents had gone made it hard to deny Harry the same opportunity.

There had been no real argument between the two adults of the household, as much as they wanted their children to learn as much as possible, they wouldn’t deny their magical nature just because.

They needed to learn and they’d likely have far more opportunities in later life if they could utilize their special talents. It was with this in mind the parents had made the ground rules incredibly clear to their children.

They were not letting their children go uneducated, so they wanted the absolute best performances both could possibly give before they’d send them to Hogwarts.

Hermione had of course taken to this without hesitation and seemed eager to prove herself but Harry had been more hesitant. It had taken a while for them to understand that Harry had been conditioned to be scared of ever getting a higher grade than the other children since he’d be punished for it.

It was with that in mind the two elder Grangers had vowed to teach him it was okay to be smart and remove the conditioning from him, being more patient as they understood it would take time.

And before any of them knew it, the years began to fly by.

Their first Christmas as a family had been amazing. It had just been the four of them, Harold’s parents had long since passed away and Joan had no interest in interacting with her estranged mother so it had been a quiet and close affair but they had all loved it.

Harry had ended up crying seeing just one present for him, never mind the fact he’d got fifteen of them, equal to Hermione, who mainly got books. He had books as well, one particularly funny one that both kids had got being magic kits that made them all giggle. Both children shied away from the wands just to be safe, however.

Harry had also gotten a remote control car, a whole wardrobe of new clothes that actually fit him, a football, and more.

He’d even gotten a gift from Hermione—which Harry wouldn’t realize for quite a while probably meant their mother bought and tagged it as Hermione’s. Amusingly enough it was a tabletop game that used magnets on an armband and little metal balls to fake telekinesis. Harry thought it was hilarious.

He’d also been given a beginner’s guide to Latin from his mother, who had mentioned she had seen him reading the Latin book in Hermione’s room more than once despite not being able to understand it fully. It was honestly Harry’s favourite present of the bunch.

He didn’t use the present from his sister as much as his real telekinesis though, knowing his parents would be able to tell the difference. He felt somewhat bad hiding it but he wanted to learn his magic as much as possible now he knew he could do it.

Hogwarts would be in for one hell of an inquisitive student one day.

And he wasn’t the only one. While Hermione of course couldn’t perform magic yet and had no textbooks, she had dived into the Latin books. When questioned, she’d explained she’d recognized the Evaporo word from the book and figured she could get a head-start on her magic education if she learnt more of the language, which of course also prompted Harry even further into learning Latin himself.

Harold just shook his head fondly and muttered something about it being very Hermione-like to pick up a detail like that when someone was declaring themselves a wizard to you for the first time.

The year following that was mostly quiet as Harry had adjusted to his family and even with time it became apparent. Harry was neither a mummy’s boy nor a daddy’s boy. No, it was plain to anyone who saw them for more than five minutes that Harry clearly valued his sister most in the family. That wasn’t to say he didn’t value his other family members, but he put his stock in Hermione’s opinion first and seemed to always be trying to make her happy.

Even if he had to risk upsetting his parents to do so, and that spoke a lot to just how loyal he was to his sister. Though Hermione being upset was actually something of a rarity, the incident on Harry’s first day proving to be an exception and not the rule.

On the occasions when it did happen though—when Hermione had a test and got too worked up about her answers or someone bullied her too much at school, or even very occasionally when Hermione misjudged the steps and tripped, smashing right into the wall—Harry would sneak into the kitchen, use his telekinesis to open the sweets drawer and steal a small haul. Just a small enough amount their parents wouldn’t notice. He’d hide them in his pockets and sneak back to his sister, sharing the load with her.

This always did its part to cheer the girl up and so Harry could never feel guilty for it, though it wasn’t always given much gratitude at first. For all the good things Harry thought of Hermione, one thing her parents had instilled in her perhaps a little too well was rule-following.

She refused to break a single rule, no matter what rule it was. The first few times Harry had snuck her the candy, while he knew it cheered her up, it was usually also something he’d get lectured for.

(“Harry! Mum and dad said no sweets! You’ll be in serious trouble.”

“But it cheers you up…”

“Yes but… if you do it again, I’ll tell! I mean it!”)

They had variations of that argument over and over for quite a while, and it rather displayed the difference between the two of them in how they thought. Harry had been there for the first PTA meeting since he had become a part of the Granger family and had heard from their teacher the supposed difference between them.

(“You see, I think your daughter is what we’d call a vertical thinker. Oh, there’s no doubting she’s brilliant, top of the class for sure, but she is a very in-the-box thinker. She always does things to the letter, as she’s instructed. She refuses to use any way than the ones she’s actively taught. It is good of course that she can do so, but it does mean she sometimes stumps herself on problem-solving if there is not an immediate solution that is normal. Think of it like this, were Hermione surviving in the woods, and she needed to make a fire to cook her food, she would look for matches on her person, or a lighter, then go to sticks for starting a fire. Your usual immediate thoughts.”

“Right, so that’s a good thing?” Harold had asked at the time, nodding along.

“Oh, it’s certainly not a bad thing. It just speaks to how she personally solves problems. Your son meanwhile is the opposite, what we’d call a lateral thinker, someone who can think outside the box. He often has to be corrected for using methods that are no longer in practice but it cannot be denied they are working methods that work for him. To go back to the fire example, if it were Harry, he might try the in-the-box solutions first if they were available to him but he would also be quick to start a fire merely by grabbing a stick and using the sole of his shoe for a base to get the fire going, despite it not being a known normal method nor taught. He can find out of the box solutions easier.”)

Hermione was rigid in her rule-following, it was like she needed hard fast rules to survive sometimes. Harry however didn’t mind breaking the rules, not if he thought it was for a good cause, like making his sister happy.

It was later into the year when this finally shifted. Harry had been the one to have a breakdown when Halloween had rolled around. He wasn’t sure why but he’d just…. Understood his loss better now. Understood what he never had with his birth parents.

It had hit him hard a few days later and he’d cried for quite a while, yet… he’d never gotten any candy sneaked out from Hermione. She’d seen him fall asleep crying and he’d woken up to being comforted by their mother.

It wasn’t until a week later, when Harry had been studying a maths textbook that Hermione had suddenly come in and dumped a few sweets in front of him, before suddenly tackling him into a hug.

(“H-Hermione?!”

“Oh Harry! I’m so sorry I never got you them before! I thought it would be horrible to break the rules but… but you always do it for me and- And… Oh, I felt so guilty!”

“Hey, it’s o-okay-“

“No, it isn’t! Oh, I’m sorry! I swear I’ll bring you as much as possible next time!”)

Harry thought she was somewhat overdramatic but he noticed a definite change in Hermione after that. The guilt over seeing her brother cry must have really gotten to her, as she seemed to start to relax on her stance on rules a bit from that point on.

Oh, that wasn’t to say she didn’t still prefer to follow the rules when possible, but she began to relax about breaking them, and though Harry wouldn’t find out for months, until the next PTA meeting, he did discover when it finally rolled around that it had even helped Hermione’s grade in class even more as she learnt to be less rigid in her methods.

Speaking of grades, just as their parents had wanted, the two siblings consistently achieved high grades in class, in every class. For Hermione, it sometimes seemed like this was all natural to her.

For Harry though, it was a nightmare. He was hardly good at mathematics, he struggled with most of P.E. aside from running laps, and he was about as good at Geography as he was at keeping his hair neat. That was to say, not at all. His mother had taken him for ten haircuts in a month before she’d cottoned on that there was likely some magical reason why Harry’s hair always forced itself back into its messy state.

But though he disliked Geography and struggled with the rest, he’d be damned if he got a low grade on them. He wanted to prove he was worth keeping to his parents, he wanted to go to Hogwarts one day and he wanted his sister to be proud of him, so even when he hated them he hunkered down In his room and he went to work.

And even in his worst subjects, he never went beneath a ninety percent in his grades.

As for in the playground, while Harry tried his best to keep out of trouble, not wanting to upset his parents, there was one thing that would always get him riled up and willing to fight.

And that was anyone who insulted his sister.

(“Say that again.” Harry hissed dangerously, glaring at the older boy who had been picking on Hermione for knowing more than him.

“I called her a know-it-all weirdo! What are you going to do about it, short stuff?” The unpleasant bully had insulted. Harry had winced a bit as he was reminded of Dudley but stood his ground.

“Make you stop.” He said simply, and like clockwork ducked under a punch that came his way. Harry thought people would learn by now not to fight him where his sister was involved. He always won, even if he had to play dirty to do so.

And play dirty he did, having learnt a new trick over time with his telekinesis and poking both of the bully’s eyes at once, before grabbing Hermione and pulling her away as he made the bully fall on his face.

“Harry!” Hermione hissed, but her smile betrayed her gratefulness. “You’re not supposed to do that…”

“Yeah, but I couldn’t just leave you.”

“Honestly. I’m your older sister, not the other way around…”

“But I’ll always protect you,” Harry said determinedly, with a smile. Hermione just rolled her eyes.)

Harry’s temperament when not dealing with those antagonizing his family, however, was much calmer. In fact, of all the Grangers, Harry was usually considered the most patient of the lot of them.

Joan was the fiercest, quick to rash action when she was angered and with the right subjects, anger was only a few words away. Harold on the other hand was calmer, but could still be very well aggravated when he was worried.

Hermione was mellow for the most part, except when something threatened her ability to learn and study. Then she became a tornado of fury until whatever obstructed her ability to learn cleared away.

Harry always found it funny really, so long as he wasn’t on the receiving end of it. Fortunately, he rarely was. He wasn’t sure but sometimes it felt as though they tried extra hard to not turn their tempers on him.

In fact, the only time in his memory he could truly remember his parents being angry at him had been when he’d snuck out of school. To this day, however, he maintained he’d had good reason to.

(It was lunchtime and all the children were out in the playground once more, playing happily. Hermione was reading a simplified Charles Dickens novel with her brother when they’d heard the sound of a crash.

Both had looked up before gasping in horror as they’d seen an elderly woman lying down in the street, a car stopped in front of her.

Harry had shot to his feet immediately rushing for the gate.

“Harry, wait! We’re not allowed outside!”

“Yeah but she needs help!” Harry has said, not even really thinking. All he saw was someone who needed help, and the right thing to do was offer it, right?

And without a second thought, he’d subtly forced the gate open, rushing out into the street, and found himself helping the older woman onto the safety of the pavement as someone called an ambulance.

While it had ultimately turned out fine, and he’d been commended for helping the old woman, he’d also got three separate chewing outs. One from the teacher overseeing the playground, one from his own teacher when he’d been brought in and one from his mother, getting him in trouble for breaking the rules and running into traffic, putting himself at potential risk of being run down even if it was for a noble reason.

His father at least had spared him, giving him more a tired lecture about being more careful and had been the calm one to handle his punishment which had fortunately been fair with the boy’s motive kept in mind.

Two weeks without being able to use his telekinesis without being actively told to had sucked but he’d agreed to it.)

His telekinesis in general had become more a part of him than ever by the time Harry and Hermione had reached ten years of age. He had learnt more ways to utilize it and while it wasn’t perfect, he could use it on people to a degree. It still very much drained him but now he could pick up Hermione at least for a good five minutes before it became overwhelming.

Harry was beyond ecstatic with this, delighted to be making progress. Between learning how to do little movements like the poking move and learning how to manipulate people, even if it was super hard, Harry was proving to become quite adept with his natural abilities.

And yet, a part of him craved the chance to go further. He wasn’t sure if it was even possible but he couldn’t wait until he got to Hogwarts. He wanted to do more. Could he perform more magic like this? Or was he only naturally gifted with telekinesis and nothing else?

He could be seen trying to find something, anything new every day in the days leading up to his eleventh birthday though he never seemed to discover anything.

“What do you think’s going to happen?” Hermione asked with a giggle when she’d caught him about a week before his birthday, throwing his hand forward in the garden with intense focus.

“I don’t know… I was kinda hoping flames would shoot out or something.” He retorted as his cheeks turned pink. Hermione raised a brow and looked unimpressed.

“In our very lush and flammable garden?” She asked, speaking slowly as if talking to a two-year-old. The pink in Harry’s cheeks turned to red. She just tutted and shook her head. “Honestly, for someone so smart you can be so thick sometimes.”

“Oi! You’re not always better!” He pouted. “After all, it wasn’t me who was the genius that left a teddy bear pressed right up against a lamp for two whole hours.”

“That was an accident and you know it!” His sibling quickly defended herself with a glare. “I’m still the one with less incidents than you. And do you know why?”

Harry rolled his eyes with a smirk. “Why?”

“Because I’m the smarter older sister.”

“And I’m the likeable younger brother.” Harry shot back. Smirk widening as he knew exactly how to mess with his sister by now.

“Exactly- HEY!” Hermione glared at him fiercely as Harry chuckles. “Jerk.”

Harry just waved his hand and made the girl’s bushy hair fall over her face in response, making her squeal before she parted it and glared.

“Mom! Harry’s using his powers to tease me again!”

“Hermione was rubbing her smarts in my face!”

“Behave, children,” Joan called from the kitchen, shaking her head fondly. Before she could say anymore though there was a loud clap that resounded through the house. She heard the footsteps of her husband and then…

“Honey! Get the kids, please!!”

Joan for a moment felt worried, but then she remembered the wards on the house and a sensible part of her mind reminded her the house was warded. Then she remembered what year it was and her eyes went wide.

“Harry! Hermione! Get inside!”

It only took a moment for the two to come in, looking curious. They rarely got told when to come inside anymore by their parents, who trusted them to be sensible, so they knew something had to be happening.

Both kids and their mother stepped out into the living room and came face to face with their father leading an elderly woman in emerald green robes into the living area. She had a stern face and exuded authority from her mere presence.

“Ah, here they are. Kids, this is Professor McGonagall. Professor, these are our children, Hermione and Harry,” Harold said and both children nodded their heads as a sign of respect. The old witch returned it.

“A pleasure,” She said, before smiling. It was odd, she didn’t look the sort to smile usually. That wasn’t to say it did not suit her though. “As your father has said, I am Professor Minerva McGonagall, transfiguration professor at Hogwarts and Deputy Headmistress.”

The two sibling’s eyes lit up.

“Does that mean you’re here with our acceptance letters, ma’am?” Hermione asked excitedly. The older witch nodded.

“Indeed.” She said, pulling out the letters and holding them out to each of them. Both read mostly the same with minor differences.

_ Mr. H. Potter-Granger/Ms. H. Granger _

_ The Bedroom At The Top Of The Stairs (Left/Right) _

_ 8 Heathgate _

_ Hampstead Garden Suburb _

_ LONDON _

__

Both children grinned excitedly.

“Normally, it would be either Professor Sprout or Professor Flitwick I’d send out to handle these house calls as I have a lot of duties as deputy head.” Minerva began, pulling out her wand and tapping both letters causing them to magically open on their own. “But given the circumstances, I had thought it best to come collect you myself. I will be guiding you all through the process of collecting your items for your first year, so you know what to do in the following years. We will be going to a place called Diagon Alley to pick up your supplies.”

The old witch turned and pulled out two bangles, handing them to the adults who put them on.

“They’re charmed to allow muggles to witness magically hidden locations. You may keep them, and do keep them safe.” She instructed firmly. “Now, we will be traveling to Diagon Alley via Portkey. That is a magical form of transportation that allows a witch or wizard to turn an item into a method of transport, traveling to wherever they need to go within the country.”

She held out a long stick, sighing at the confused looks if got her.

“Please, everyone grab on. I understand it may be odd for you but this was the largest object I could find on short notice. I thought it would be best If we do not go in via the usual entrance, so as to spare you the… eccentric types who may recognize Mister Potter.”

Harry winced as the adults sighed. They only just realized this meant it was close to the time where they would not be able to put the fact their son was famous aside anymore.

“Please, it is timed so grab on.”

And they all did so before a swirling sensation suddenly overtook them. A moment later, they all found themselves on the floor, groaning, only the old witch was still standing.

“It takes some getting used to, portkey travel.” She stated simply, walking up the brick wall ahead of them once she had helped everyone to their feet. “Children, observe carefully. Spot the rubbish bin, you then count three up, and two across. Then, with your wands, or for the adults with your fingers when you’re wearing the bangles, tap this brick.”

And she tapped said brick with her own wand, causing it to sink in before suddenly the whole wall parted and rolled up on either side, revealing the first magical place the family would ever lay eyes on.

A long winding street, crooked houses held up by magic, noticeable vendors outside with so many bustling along and owls swooping through the air, letters in hand.

Their escort turned to observe their reaction, satisfied to see they were suitably awestruck.

“Welcome, Mister Potter, Miss Granger, to Diagon Alley.”


	8. Diagon Alley

“Now then! Our first order of business will be to visit Gringotts.” McGonagall declared, peering over her glasses at the Grangers. “Gringotts is the most commonly used wizarding bank in the wizarding world, as well as the most secure. It is run by goblins-“

“Goblins?” Harold asked suddenly, eyes going wide as he took that in.

“Yes, Mister Granger, goblins,” McGonagall confirmed, looking a tad amused at his incredulous expression. “It was decided after a treaty was reached after the last of their rebellions. I advise you to be on your best behaviour and as polite as possible. Goblins are far more receptive to those who treat them with respect. Despite their many rebellions and subsequent treaties, many of the more… traditional members of our society treat Goblins as no more than fancy house elves. I would not recommend following their examples. Goblins can turn quite nasty when they want to, however, it does make them an excellent choice for protecting one’s valuables so long as they’re all kept in one spot. They love having valuables within their possession you see, so they like to have as much stored with them as possible. You’d be hard-pressed to find a safer place, other than perhaps Hogwarts itself.”

As McGonagall was explaining this they walked through Diagon Alley, taking in the sights. It was amazing, seeing so many wizards and witches walking around, catching letters from owls out of the air like it was an everyday occurrence (which in this street it probably was) and there were so many unique and interesting stores dotted about.

Twilfitt and Tattings, Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour, Quality Quidditch Supplies, Slug and Jigger’s apothecary—Harry could practically hear Hermione drooling when they spotted Flourish and Blotts at the same time, though privately he’d be forced to admit he wasn’t much better. His sister had long since infected him with the joy of reading, and reading about a _real_ magical world?

To keep himself from running off from the group there and then, he grabbed his sister’s wrist and rushed to keep up with their parents and escort. It was a bit hard not to bump into anyone with his bangs in his face (McGonagall had waved her wand right as they were walking in to cover his scar with his bangs) but they caught up.

“Um, Professor? What exactly is a house elf?” He asked confused and the woman stopped in her tracks for a moment, looking conflicted. After a moment she sighed.

“I suppose I should have chosen a better example; house elves are quite hard to explain to muggles without it seeming… cruel.” She said, making the Grangers feel a tad on easy. “Think of them as magical butlers with a _very_ loyal streak, who are magically bound to respond to every command their owner gives.”

“Owner?!” Joan asked, looking appalled. “Like a slave?!”

“And this is precisely why house elves and other subjects should really be explained ahead of time, Albus.” Harry heard the woman mutter under her breath, before looking up. “It is not the best look, I understand, and unfortunately, at least where some purebloods are concerned, it’s as bad as it sounds. However, one must keep in mind that, with very few exceptions, house elves suffer from a sort of magical poisoning if they are not bound to someone. Kinder owners leave the option open to their elves if they wish to be given clothes and find a new life, though typically these are also the elves least likely to want such a thing. House elves do tend to be… more problematic when they have bad owners, so it is not as though they are incapable of acting on their own accords so long as they are not specifically bound not to.”

“So they have to have an owner or they die?” Asked Harry, uncertainly. And the elderly witch nodded curtly. Harry shuddered and his sister and parents looked a tad uneasy but they decided to drop the issue for the moment, not sure what to say to that.

“Ah, here we are,” McGonagall announced suddenly, and looking up, Harry saw a building as white as snow that towered over everything else in Diagon Alley. It had bronze, burnished doors and to either side were what must have been goblins, who had swarthy faces with wrinkled tight skin and small eyes, big pronounced noses, and large ears who bowed as they approached.

Harry awkwardly bowed slightly back, and a brief look of contemplation seemed to pass the small creature’s face before it went back to a neutral expression and stood up.

“Very good, Mister Potter,” McGonagall said quietly, and his family followed his example. They made their way up the stairs and as they walked inside they came to a second set of doors that had a large inscription in them.

Enter, stranger, but take heed

Of what awaits the sin of greed,

For those who take, but do not earn,

Must pay most dearly in their turn.

So if you seek beneath our floors

A treasure that was never yours,

Thief, you have been warned, beware

Of finding more than treasure there.

“So….” Harry blinked, taking it in. “Their defence is writing poetry?”

“No, obviously they sing sonnets when people go near other people’s stuff,” Hermione answered her brother sarcastically, making him mock glare at her.

“You joke, but I would not recommend taking the actual defences so lightly,.” Their escort said with her lips pressed thin. “Goblins do not answer to the same rules and laws as wizards. These defences could be, and more than likely are, very deadly if you go against them.”

“…Definitely secure then,” Joan muttered in a small voice and McGonagall nodded gravely, before turning to the family.

“Now then, we have our usual order of business with a muggle-born family, in setting up an account for Miss Granger. However, with you, there is also a special matter I would recommend we deal with first.”

“A special matter, professor?” Hermione questioned, getting a nod in response.

“You see, your brother’s birth parents made preparations in case anything were to happen to them so that Mister Potter would not lose any of what would rightfully belong to him. Included in that was the Potter vault, which he will be able to request the key for when he becomes of age in the wizarding world.” The bespectacled witch informed them, surprising them all and making Harry’s mouth drop open.

“My parents left me some money?” he asked, surprised.

“Oh they left more than just ‘some’ money, Mister Potter, but that’s for another day. For now, there is a smaller vault attached to the main Potter vault that was left to you by Lily and James. Professor Dumbledore was assigned to look after the key to the vault until it was opened, then was to give the key to you.” McGonagall reached into her robes and pulled out a small golden key. “He entrusted me with the delivery, as I would be taking you all around Diagon Alley anyways. Please, follow me.”

And she strode off ahead, the Grangers lagging behind a bit, exchanging looks of surprise at the reveal of the vault. However, after a moment Harold managed a smile.

“Well, this will be good for you Harry. You’ll get to find some items that belonged to your birth parents.” He said and Harry nodded, thinking about what he might find and slowly going from shocked to excited.

“Don’t set your expectations too high,” Joan warned, however. “There’s a chance it might only be money if it’s some form of extra vault. Of course, that begs the question of how much is there?”

They reached the counter and McGonagall spoke for them, dropping the key onto the desk. “Mister Potter would like to access his vault please, and he will be accompanied by me and his adoptive family.”

The goblin sat at the reception desk looked up, raising a thin eyebrow. He was even more wrinkled than the goblins outside, showing his age, along with his balding ahead that had a few grey strands of hair clinging to it. He took the key in his small hand, long fingers wrapping around it as he inspected it skeptically, before looking satisfied with whatever he found.

“Adoptive family? Family Name?” The goblin inquired, waving a little hand with very long fingers over his desk.

“Granger.”

“Muggles?”

“Except for his sister, she is muggleborn. We will be making a vault for her once we are finished with the business of Potter’s trust vault.”

The Grangers all shared looks at that, Joan and Harold especially going wide-eyed. As far as they knew from their own muggle world, trust funds which were presumably the muggle equivalent of trust vaults were only given to rich kids. The Grangers weren’t poor by any means, in fact, Harold and Joan made a substantial amount of money from their dental practice, but to have enough money to set up a trust vault?

If that was what they thought it was, how rich was Harry?!

“There will be no need to set one up for her.” The goblin said, the ghost of a smirk on his face. “As it turns out, Mister Potter’s parents had a clause included in the terms when they set up. This is the clause verbatim, as the previous owner of the vault wrote it. ‘I, James Henry Potter, declare that in the event of my demise, the Potter vault will be transferred to my wife Lily Potter nee Evans. Should she, for any reason, be unable to take ownership of the vault, ownership should be transferred to my son, Harry James Potter, to take full control when he turns seventeen. Until such time, he is permitted full access to his trust vault which will be refilled annually with money from the main Potter vault to the initial amount present when the trust vault was set up.’”

“Well, we knew that much already,” McGonagall assured the goblin, who nodded.

“Of course, however, there is an extra clause here that will be important with your situation. Verbatim, it reads: ‘In the event that Harry is adopted by a muggle family, a muggleborn family, or a wizarding family without the necessary amount of money to put them and all other children they may have through seven years at Hogwarts, the parents of such a family will be granted temporary ownership of the main Potter vault until Harry is of age.’”

McGonagall went wide-eyed at this herself, clearly shocked as the rest of them by this turn of events. Harold looked like he was going to faint while Joan was frozen, mouth hanging slightly open.

Hermione was grinning madly as the implications set in.

“’Additionally, should Harry have any magical siblings with his adoptive family, as the current owner of the Potter vault, I do hereby authorize those siblings to share the trust vault left to Harry James Potter, all galleons, sickles, and knuts to be split evenly amongst them.’” The goblin folded the paper up and put it away, a glint of amusement in his eyes when he saw the amazed looks on all their faces. “So, there is no need to set up a vault for Miss Granger. She already has one.”

“…Well, that is certainly… surprising, but very useful indeed,” McGonagall said after a moment, coming back to her senses and turning to the Grangers. “You have no objections to this?”

“Uh, no ma’am,” Harold said after a moment, getting his wife to walk with him as they all approached.

“You are the patriarch of the Granger family?” The goblin asked and their father nodded after a moment. “Follow me, please. I will deal with the transference of the vault ownership. As for the rest of you, please follow Griphook, he will lead you to the trust vault.”

A small black-haired goblin walked up to them, taking the key from the receptionist, and bowed slightly to the group, who all bowed back. There was a moment of shock on the Goblin’s part before the ghost of a smile could be seen on his face and he made a gesture for the family to follow.

“Professor McGonagall?” Joan spoke up, leading her children by the hand now to keep track of them (and keep herself grounded with this new reality), reaching the elderly witch’s side. “What exactly were those things the goblin was talking about? Sickles, galleons, and knuts?”

“Ah, of course. I forgot you use a different form of currency. Those are the forms of wizarding currency.” McGonagall explained patiently, pulling a few coins out of her pocket. “The bronze ones are knuts, they have the least value. Silver are sickles, they are the medium value of the lot. Finally, gold are galleons which have the highest value. Its twenty-nine knuts to a sickle, and seventeen sickles to a galleon.”

“That’s…. confusing.” Harry froweds. McGonagall didn’t have a response for him, instead regarding them all at once.

“I believe a galleon is equivalent to twenty-five British pounds, a sickle is equivalent to one pound and a Knut is equivalent to twenty-five pence. I believe that is more comprehensive for you?” She explained and they nodded.

"But couldn't I trade a galleon for twenty five pound then come back to trade and end up with more then one galleon?" Hermione pondered

"No." The stern witch said with certainty. "Previously traded money is magically recognized. Goblins do not take lightly to trickery. Should anyone try to swindle them in such a way, I can assure they will regret it. As for money that has not been previously traded, unless you have the time to learn two hundred plus years of Goblin history, Arithmancy and devote your mind to hours of studying to try and comprehend the many inner-workings of Gringotts where even the likes of Headmaster Dumbledore have failed, I would assume knowing that they merely give a faux number muggleborns can understand would suit you better? The exact number is much harder to pin down, we merely gave the example of muggle currency numbers so you have a general idea of the value of things you buy. The Goblins work on conversion is done completely magically; not mathematically."

"Arithamncy? Goblin history?! Oh that sounds so interesting! I'll have to look for some books on them!" Hermione said, completely missing the sarcastic side to the professors explanation. Harry was content to let it be himself, the only part he really needed to understand was that the currency could be used in a way he wouldn't struggle with. McGonagall looked like she might have been suppressing a smile but they had no idea why. “You do not get nauseous easily, I trust?”

“Nauseous? Not usually. Why?” Joan wondered.

They found out five minutes later when they were hurtling down into the caverns of Gringotts on a rickety railway in a small cart that could barely fit them all, stalagmites and stalactites blurring as they whizzed past.

Harry was whooping excitedly, loving it, McGonagall somehow kept her face her usual stern visage, and Harry’s sister and mother screamed for dear life as they held each other tight.

Soon enough they were in front of the Potter Vault, Hermione and their mother holding each other tight as they got their bearings while McGonagall had to reign in Harry’s excitement from the adrenaline he’d gotten from the ride.

Soon enough, after Joan loudly cursed the entire magical world for having no concept of seatbelts, they followed Griphook up to the vault and he inserted the key.

After a moment, green smoke poured out and the door slid away, McGonagall ushering them inside and when they came in their eyes widened once more at the sheer amount of coins they saw. Harry’s heart nearly stopped. There were mounds upon mounds upon mounds of gold, silver, and bronze. Even McGonagall looked somewhat surprised as she looked around.

Griphook waved a hand and suddenly it separated into exactly half, looking perfectly even on either side. Harry assumed this was to separate his money from Hermione’s.

Somehow, though he wasn’t sure how he managed through his shock, Harry approached the goblin who had taken them here. “Um… sorry, excuse me Mister Griphook, sir?”

He raised a brow at the way the boy addressed him before responding. “Yes, Mister Potter?”

“How much money is this exactly?” He inquired, having no idea what to expect. Hermione looked like she was trying to count it all from sight alone, he noticed out the corner of his eye.

“This is the Potter trust vault, so if I remember correctly, the terms stated that this vault is refilled annually on the first of August every year, to a certain capacity. That capacity is meant to be twenty thousand knuts-“ What? “-nine hundred and ninety-five sickles-“ _What?!_ “-and two hundred thousand galleons, Mister Potter.”

**_WHAT?!_ **

Hermione had a look in her eyes she always got when she was solving a maths problem and, rather quickly, let out a gasp of shock before turning with a sparkle in her eyes. “Harry! That’s six million pounds! That’s three million to each of us!”

…

There was a sudden thud as their mother fainted.

“If she faints at this, you might need a medic on sight for when she hears how much is in the main vault,” Griphook said, sounding faintly amused. As if sensing Harry’s next question, he looked up. “This vault compromises a mere zero point six percent of the Potter fortune, in pure value.”

“That...” His sister met his eye as her voice turned faint as she was stunned. “A billion… my brother’s a billionaire.”

And she promptly followed her mother in fainting. McGonagall sniffed.

“They don’t faint often, do they? I would prefer not to have to interrupt my classes due to constant fainting spells when Miss Granger arrives at Hogwarts,” she asked conversationally. Harry shook his head lightly as he sat down for a moment.

“Sorry, I need a moment…”

“It’s completely understandable, Mister Potter. I knew your father was well off but it was never truly impressed on me just by how much.” The elderly witch said as Hermione and Joan were suddenly waking up with a wave of Griphook’s hand.

After a few moments, where McGonagall ascertained the two women were okay, Griphook took Hermione’s full name and keyed her magical signature to the leftmost pile of coins.

McGonagall helped them pick a decent amount of money for the shopping they would need to do as well as have some spending money left over. They picked up a bit more than they might usually, as they had no idea what they might encounter in this regard and they had no idea if they would be coming back any time soon.

“Is there any chance we could slow down on the way back up?” Joan practically pleaded when they all climbed back into the cart. Griphook smiled nastily.

“One speed only.”

And off they went, screams and whoops and the stern silent McGonagall gaze filling the cave once more. Soon enough, they came out above and walked into the hall where a very shell-shocked looking Harold met them.

He looked like he might faint as well when they explained each of his kids now were now millionaires by muggle standards, however, he bravely held on and the group made their way outside, coming up to a store called Madam Malkin’s.

“Now then, I am not needed back at Hogwarts for a few hours yet. I quite understand if you all wish to look around and take your time to familiarise yourselves with the area. Once we’ve got robes, I would recommend splitting up so we do not take up too much space,” McGonagall announced. She quickly informed the parents of what shops they’d need to go to for what items. “Every shopkeeper on this alley is more or less friendly and accommodating for muggles, though I warn you some may tease you a bit about the magic world. I once saw Winter Bottlebrush in Winter’s Wizarding Wonderland convince a muggle mother that giants could lay dragon’s eggs. Utter nonsense of course.”

The family just nodded, having no idea how to respond, silently reeling from the revelation of giants and potentially dragons existing.

“Anyways, aside from that, they will be quite glad to help you get your items, and we have dealt with the tricky part in dealing with Gringotts. Merely stay away from Knockturn Alley and try to stay on this street from here to the Alley we came from, and it should be perfectly fine for you to explore on your own. We can meet up at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour two hours after splitting up. That will give us all plenty of time to obtain school items and some time for simple browsing. I think it would be best if I were to remain with Mister Potter, in case anyone recognizes them. I will be able to head them off.”

Everyone nodded at that and Joan stepped forward. “In that case, I think it will be best if Harold goes with Hermione. Do you think it will be better if I also go with you and Harry?”

“Actually, Mrs. Granger, it may be more prudent to stick together. While no one can do anything actively malicious to you on Diagon Alley, it is still better for muggle parents to stick together in case of any… pranksters,” McGonagall said, wrinkling her nose at the word. Harry supposed she must have known one or two based on that reaction. “So long as you’re both together, no one will dare try it when you’re with your daughter. Strength in numbers and a muggleborn child with you.”

“They’ll be less likely to do it because of Hermione?” Harry asked, confused. “But she hasn’t failed an exam, she isn’t in her scary mode yet.”

“Prat.” Hermione flicked his ear, making him snicker and the parents roll their eyes. McGonagall cleared her throat.

“Yes, Mister Potter, they will as there have been a few incidents in the past where accidental magic happened when muggleborn children have seen their parents be hit by even harmless jinxes. No one with half a brain is risking blowing up Ollivanders for a practical joke.”

“I suppose that makes sense.” Joan nodded, though she looked slightly worried. “But you’re sure it will be okay if Harry’s just with you? We don’t want to leave him if he doesn’t want to.”

“Oh, it’s perfectly up to yourselves of course but based on her earlier reaction, I believe Miss Granger may enjoy the extra time to peruse the books in Flourish and Blotts? If possible there is an extra shop I would like to show Mister Potter on the way.”

There were a few more minutes of conversation as they worked out what to do but ultimately, the issue was settled in the exact way McGonagall had suggested, with her accompanying Harry while their parents went with Hermione.

There had been a brief moment of confusion when they’d walked in to Madam Malkins and both brother and sister had been measured at the same time before they realized that they wouldn’t need changing rooms because robes would go over their normal clothes.

Madam Malkin herself had been pleasant if a bit too chatty. Not that Harry meant that to be rude, but he wasn’t sure how the woman expected him to understand half of what she said while a robe we bunched up over his head covering his ears. (Hermione couldn’t stop giggling when he accidentally tripped on the fabric, Harry was so going to make the tap at home splash in her face as revenge.)

Then finally, after paying three galleons each for their robes, they had set off.

“Be safe, sweetheart, and be good for professor McGonagall.” Harry’s mother had instructed, kissing his head and making him whine embarrassed and his father laughed and clapped his shoulder before they both went to Hermione, who waved excitedly.

“See you soon!” She giggled suddenly. “Bet I have the better wand!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that.” Harry playfully stuck his tongue out, making the girl giggle as she grabbed her father’s hand. Of course, his sister immediately dragged their parents right to Flourish and Blotts, making Harry chuckle at her predictability.

“Well, I must admit Mister Potter, it does my heart good to see you have found a family like the Grangers to care for you,” McGonagall said from his side, making him look up. “Lily and James would approve.”

“They would? You knew my parents, professor?” Harry asked in surprise, and the woman gave a curt nod as she started walking across the street, Harry following along.

“Indeed. I was their head of house at Hogwarts, so I was the teacher responsible for looking after them. Both could be handfuls in their own special ways but I admit, there are few students I’ve had that I’ve been more proud to call my friends than them. They were both extremely clever in their own right, even if your father had a… penchant for being lazy about it.”

Harry thought he saw the ghost of a smile on the older witch’s face. They came up to a shop called Ollivander’s, McGonagall pushing the door open and ushering the raven-haired wizard inside.

“You look a lot like him. Except for your eyes.” McGonagall did smile slightly, Harry was sure he saw it, as the woman straightened up. “Everyone always said it. Your father’s looks, but your mother’s eyes. Now, I can tell you more later, and I’m sure there are plenty of others you’ll encounter soon who may also be willing to tell you tales of them. We are still here on business, Mister Potter.”

McGonagall tapped a bell at the desk and a moment later, an old man with a fancy but old looking suit that would fit right in in the Victorian era emerged, his pale wide eyes reminding Harry of moons.

“Professor McGonagall. Good afternoon. Fir wood, nine and a quarter inches, and a heartstring core, I believe? Rather stiff.” His large eyes moved down to Harry and he slowly walked around the counter. “Ah, yes. I thought I’d be meeting you soon, Mister Potter.”

“You know me, sir?” Harry asked, before wincing. Stupid question, he realized a tad too late.

“Oh, the whole wizarding world does, Mister Potter. It feels like only just yesterday I was serving a redhead with those same eyes as yours her first wand. Willow, ten and a quarter inches, rather swishy. Brilliant for charms.”

“Garrick,” McGonagall spoke up in what sounded like a warning tone, yet the man, other than sparing her a glance, continued on pressing closer to Harry who was starting to feel very uncomfortable.

“Of course, Professor McGonagall likely would have preferred the work of your father’s wand. Mahogany, eleven inches, pliable. An extraordinary little wand for transfiguration. Even before that, I can scarcely believe it was more than half a century ago that I—”

“Ollivander!” McGonagall shouted suddenly, her voice sharp. “He’s eleven. He needs a wand, not horror stories.”

“Of course. My apologies.” The elderly man said, standing up, though he looked somewhat put out. He then snapped his finger and suddenly a measuring tape appeared. “Wand arm, Mister Potter?”

“Uh… I’m right-handed?”

Ollivander nodded and the tape measure began measuring his arm, before suddenly going on to measure other things such as his head, his legs, the distance between his feet, and the size of his eyeball.

All the while, the owner of the shop had disappeared into the back and Harry could hear rattling coming from inside before Ollivander suddenly brought out a large pile of wands. He took one out and put it in Harry’s hand.

“Dragon heartstring. Six and a half inches. Cedar wood. Give it a wave Mister Potter,” Ollivander said and Harry did so. He felt a very slight tingle but Ollivander didn’t look impressed, taking it away and coming back with another. “Teak wood, unicorn hair, twelve inches.”

But once more, there was nothing more than a small tingle. This went on for quite some time as well, sometimes there would be more of a pull, sometimes he even thought he saw the tip starting to light up. Other times, Ollivander would have barely given it to him before snatching it back and coming back with another.

“Elm, Heartstring, five inches. Rather small.”

“Ash, phoenix feather, eight and three-quarter inches. Anything?”

“A tricky customer, indeed. Not to worry Mister Potter, your mother took some time to find her wand as well. Let’s try this one, Walnut, Unicorn Hair, fourteen inches.”

“Perhaps a pine wand with a heartstring core? Seven inches- No no no, that isn’t right.”

Then finally, after what felt like hours but in reality was probably only ten minutes at most, Ollivander emerged one last time, looking at Harry as though he was some kind of bizarre creature.

“I do wonder… try this one, Mister Potter. Eleven inches, holly and phoenix feather.” He explained, putting the wand into Harry’s hand and the second he grabbed Harry just _knew_ it was right for him. He could feel it in his very soul, the same feeling he got every time he used his telekinesis.

Without hesitation, he swung the wand down and there was an explosion of sparks from the tip, causing Ollivander to cheer.

“Oh bravo! But… curious… very curious.” He said, suddenly going quiet. Harry looked up, and as if sensing the boy’s question, he started creeping closer. “I remember every wand I’ve ever sold, Mister Potter. Every single wand. And it just so happens that the phoenix who gave the feather for this wand gave another one, a single other feather. I remember that wand very well, it was powerful. Very powerful. Yew, Thirteen and a half inches.”

He then very suddenly put a finger on Harry’s forehead, making the boy stiffen a bit. McGonagall said something but Harry didn’t hear it, his focus on the man who said something that took all of Harry’s attention. “It’s curious you should be destined for this wand… when its brother gave you this very scar.”

Harry felt ice in his blood.

  
  
  
  
  
  


“That’s enough, Ollivander!” McGonagall chastised, taking out her pouch and putting several galleons down. “There, ten. That should be more than enough, now that you’re finished scaring children. Come along, Mister Potter.”

And suddenly Harry was being led out the door, wand in hand. Ollivander shouted something about a wand box but it was ignored. After a few moments, McGonagall took a deep breath and turned to her charge.

“Apologies, Mister Potter. Ollivander has always been a… difficult man who doesn’t realize the impact of his words. Please, give me your wand and I’ll keep it holstered while we’re out. It’s considered bad form to walk with one’s wand in grasp unless you are expecting to be attacked.”

Harry did so, feeling reluctant. “Professor? …What does it mean, me having the same wand as Voldemort?”

After she flinched, giving Harry a slightly hard look, she spoke. “It means nothing, Mister Potter. Brother wands share cores, and that is it. There may be some unique properties where the wands themselves meet but that is all there is to it. It’s likely just a coincidence. Do not concern yourself with it.” She assured him. “And please, say You-Know-Who.”

“….Professor?” Harry said, lightly as he could tell she was a strict woman so she might not like what he was about to say. “I understand he was a bad guy but aren’t you giving him what he wants by refusing to speak his name? He was a bad guy but I’d never know immediately who you were talking about by just saying You-Know-Who and that.”

“Be that as it may, Mister Potter, people are still scared,” She explained slowly, pressing her lips thin. Harry pressed on, however.

“Yes but… It feels like it would be an insult to my parents. They died to protect me, and they were fighting precisely so people could say the name. I can understand being afraid, and I understand he was horrible, but I don’t think that should be a reason to give him what he wanted.” Harry said determinedly, and McGonagall stopped for a moment, looking at him. For one moment, Harry thought she was going to get him in trouble but instead she merely sighed.

“Very well. I have a feeling the headmaster will be very pleased to hear you say that. Your wand core still means nothing, Mister Potter. From what I have observed so far you are already very different from You…. V-Voldemort.”

She shuddered as she said it but Harry was pleased to see her make the effort. Her words also helped him feel better about his own wand, even if he was still somewhat weirded out by it.

They went to Slug and Jiggers Apothecary next, picking up all the items and ingredients they’d need. Harry had been very interested when he’d heard McGonagall mention they would be mainly for Potions work and missed the woman wincing when he said Potions sounded like it would be a nice class.

She told him quite plainly if there was one thing he should read up on as much as possible before arriving, it was potions as they had the highest rate of accidents when not handled properly, though Harry could have sworn she was trying to hint something else when she said it, not that Harry got whatever it might be.

They then set off again, ingredients and protective gloves in tow, going to buy a cauldron and a telescope. Once they had those, Harry had his list in hand again, going over it to see what else there was.

Curious, he spoke up. “Professor? Why aren’t first years allowed their own brooms anyway?”

“It’s to keep flying lessons as effective as possible.” She explained, stopping near a shop entitled Quality Quidditch Supplies. “It’s so you all learn at the same level, how to handle new brooms. Having your own may make it work better for you than a school broom but it will also be problematic due to the fact you will never learn how to use other brooms so when your own eventually breaks, you may not be able to pick up a new one. It saves the embarrassment of the student and the time of the flying instructor if we do not have to give them lessons later on in life.”

Harry nodded his understanding. That more or less made sense to him, mostly. He supposed the muggle stereotype of witches on brooms was actually somewhat correct then.

“Now that you have reminded me, however… I will not be showing favouritism Mister Potter, but I do wish to show you something. Follow me.” She said, walking up to the aforementioned Quidditch shop and going inside. Harry was right behind her and was surprised to see it was one of the most packed shops around.

There were odd little golden winged balls zipping around in little glass boxes, a newton’s cradle made of black iron balls that looked very aggressive and seemed to be smashing against each other on their own, and there was some kind of catapult contraption throwing a red ball about the same size as a football back and forward.

Up above, there were dozens of broomsticks on display, from very basic looking spindly ones to sleek works of art painted all black.

“Ah, Minerva. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you in here!” An old woman with short greying hair and a squat stature at the counter laughed. 

McGonagall nodded curtly. “Well, it’s not for long, Braxley. I’m only here for a few moments as I wish to show my current charge something related to brooms, then I’ll be on my way. I believe Rolanda may be by before the new term however, the school quaffles are all battered and one of our bludgers is very noncommittal in trying to smash open the player’s heads anymore.”

Harry looked at the woman with wide eyes. Smashing people’s heads open?!

Yet neither seemed to notice, the woman at the counter just laughed. “Now now, you know that hasn’t happened for years. Anyways, the broom section is where it’s always been. Have a good day, Minerva.”

“You too.” McGonagall nodded and ushered Harry along to a section where there were even more brooms on display. McGonagall took him up to one labeled a ‘Cleansweep Six’, which looked mostly like a normal sweeping broom except for a metal cap on the end and a seat like a bicycle. “I wanted to show this Mister Potter because this is the type of broom James used to ride.”

Harry let out a small sound of delight at that, getting to see something like that even if it wasn’t his father’s own.

“He played for his house team, and he was one of the best players we ever had. I thought you’d appreciate seeing this before we move on.”

Harry nodded, eyes sparkling behind his round glasses as he smiled brightly. “I really do. Thank you, professor.”

He didn’t realize in his delight he completely forgot to ask _what_ sport his father played. What sport involved a broomstick?

It never occurred to him to question it as they walked out once more and began making their way down to Flourish and Blotts to pick up his textbooks. On the way, however, McGonagall seemed to notice something in one of the shops, stopping before changing direction and walking into it. “Apologies Mister Potter, I’ll try to make this delay brief.”

They walked up to a shop entitled ‘Bewitching Enchantments and Enchanting Bewitchments’ which Harry personally thought was too much of a mouthful for a name, entering into a relatively peaceful and quiet shop. It was covered end to end in all sorts of interesting and odd items, however, as well as mundane and very normal ones. From floating jewelry boxes to plain old regular wardrobes.

Up ahead, they stopped just in time to come up to a pale man in a purple robe, looking over several bangles which had a sign above them, declaring some to be normal and some to be bewitched.

“Professor Quirrell,” McGonagall spoke up and the man jumped, turning around. One of his eyes was twitching and he looked like he was shaking slightly.

“O-Oh h-h-hello P-P-Professor McGonagall. What l-l-lovely s-surprise!” He said, looking like he wanted to run from the woman immediately.

“Yes, I was surprised to see you too,” McGonagall said, sounding kinder than she usually did. “I’m currently dealing with one of my charges and I thought it would be good to introduce you both early. Mister Potter, this is Professor Quirrell. He will be teaching the Defense Against the Dark Arts class when you go to school. Professor, I’m sure you’ve heard of Mister Potter.”

Quirrell’s eyes went comically wide and he immediately held out a hand which Harry took hesitantly, shaking it. “A p-pleasure, Mister P-P-Potter. Very p-p-pleased to meet you.”

“You too, Sir,” Harry said, having no idea what else to say, as Quirrell let go.

“I w-w-was just browsing t-these trinkets here for a c-c-class in future, learning to t-t-tell the difference b-b-between c-charmed and hexed i-items and how to tell when there is s-spells on them at a-all,” The stuttering professor explained. “M-Mind you, you of a-all people p-probably don’t need the class.”

“Now Quirrell, he was just a baby. I highly doubt he has a mastery over Defense Against The Dark Arts due to a fluke,” McGonagall said and Quirrell nodded bashfully. “Mister Potter, why don’t you browse the shop for a few moments while I talk to Professor Quirrell? Do not leave, however.”

“Alright, thank you, professor. Nice to meet you, professor.” Harry said, nodding at the stuttering man and walking off to look around. It was definitely interesting to see the difference between muggle items and magical ones, though some were questionable. He could understand the appeal of a mirror that could give you advice on your looks, but who wanted a drawer that randomly threw out the items in it? Or a straw that melted in the middle of drinking? And was the chair that whipped whoever sat on it if they said certain words really legal?

Harry soon found himself, amusingly enough, heading towards the muggle item section. An entire world of magic at his fingertips and he was walking right towards the usual muggle stuff. He couldn’t resist his curiosity though on what might be there.

There was the usual stuff dotted around, drawers and chairs and carpets and more drawers, cups and straws and plates and cutlery galore, but a very interesting section that caught Harry’s attention immediately was a section dedicated to music albums.

It was filled up with cover art all holding vinyl discs, it would appear. He wondered if wizards could just tap them with a wand and mutter some spell to make them play without a gramophone.

He looked along the section and was surprised when he noticed a young witch the same age as him looking at the albums as well. She wore a hot pink sundress, grey tights, a light pink hoodie she had failed to zip up, and black flats. She had very pretty platinum blonde hair and when she turned Harry was able to see she had vibrant blue eyes, as well as a small button nose and small lips.

Her face contorted in shock, looking as though she’d been caught committing a murder and she immediately spoke up, sounding defensive. “A-Ah, um… I’m just wandering about. No real interest in these. Why would I?”

Well, that wasn’t suspicious at all.

“I mean there’s nothing wrong with it if you are, is there?” Harry shrugged and the girl noticeably relaxed.

“Ah, right… Just some people you know. Get uppity if you so much as look at muggles. Doesn’t make sense if you ask me, acting like they’re beneath us when they’re just human like us, they’re just missing a trait,” she said, doing a complete one-eighty. Harry supposed she must be a pureblood then, as that sounded like the supremacist way of thinking, though he was glad to see she didn’t seem to agree with it. She quickly looked up. “They have some really nice music though, don’t get to listen to it much. I mean, I love all music but muggle music has this… very imaginative element to it that really interests me. Daphne Greengrass, by the way. Who are you, if I may ask?”

“Harry-“ He was about to say his full name but remembering what his name would do and the fact they were trying to hide his presence, Harry opted to exclude the Potter part of his name. “-Granger. Harry Granger. Nice to met you.”

“Nice to meet you too. Muggleborn then?” She inquired curiously, looking around and biting her lip as if waiting for something to attack.

“Half-blood,” Harry answered honestly. “My father was pureblood, my mother was a muggleborn.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.” Daphne smiled, and she did sound genuinely interested. “It’s always nice to hear about purebloods who can love muggleborns. Are they with you?”

“No, they’re…. gone.” Harry said sadly, and Daphne’s eyes flashed with sympathy. “But I have an amazing family who adopted me. They were all muggles but my sister turned out to be a witch by coincidence.”

“Oh, that’s really fortunate!” The blonde smiled, before giggling with good humour. Harry had to admit, though privately and only in his own head of course, that it was very cute. “And I bet you get to hear plenty of their music if that’s the case.”

“Dad never stops playing Queen songs in the house.” Harry grinned. “Drives mum mental. Especially when my sister starts singing along.”

Unfortunately, their conversation didn’t get too much further than that, as a woman with long black hair and blue eyes that seemed to be judging everything they took in appeared, who wore a long navy blue silk dress and a circlet of some kind. Harry was strongly reminded of royalty but he could tell with a single once over, her personality would be more wicked step-mother than Cinderella.

“Daphne!” She barked, sounding displeased. “How dare you come near this… filth. How many times have I told you this stuff is beneath us?!”

“Sorry mother…” Daphne said in a suddenly dull, empty tone. Harry was disturbed to see her go stock still, as though scared to move.

It disturbed him because he used to do the same thing when he didn’t want to anger the Dursleys when they were in the same room.

“You will be if I catch you with this muggle nonsense again!” She suddenly rounded on Harry, glaring and sneering. He immediately balled on fist up, ready to use his telekinesis at any moment. “And who on earth are you?”

“Harry, ma’am.” He said simply, keeping his full name out of it. She raised a brow.

“And what business do you have in a section like this?” she asked, as though sizing him up. Harry didn’t need to be a genius to figure out she was trying to judge if the raven-haired little boy in front of her was ‘beneath her’, however, he also knew that is she was anything like the Dursleys then Daphne would be in for even more trouble when she found out.

“I’m pureblood if that’s what you’re asking.” He responded cooly, looking her right in the eyes determinedly. “And I’m just exploring while I wait on someone else. Is that all?”

“…Indeed. Well, be careful you don’t go looking for things beneath you then unless you want to be a blood traitor.” Daphne’s mother sniffed, before turning and dragging her daughter by the wrist out of the store. Harry winced in sympathy, wishing he could do more.

“And that, Mister Potter, is unfortunately how most of the supremacists within our society are.” McGonagall’s sudden voice made Harry jump, and he turned to see her looking more grave. “I assume she ran because she saw me. I see you met the Greengrass’.”

“Daphne was nice,” Harry said, frowning as he looked out to where the mother and daughter had disappeared. “But her mother…”

“Rosalia Greengrass. She’s one of the worst kinds of blood purists there is” McGonagall sighed as she walked on and Harry followed her outside. “I don’t believe she was ever an active death eater but she did very heavily support You—V-Voldemort’s goals.”

Harry frowned at that as they walked down the street. He didn’t get much longer to think on it however when they finally arrived at Flourish and Blotts. They picked up all the necessary textbooks first, then Harry had grabbed another book.

“’Owler and Cribbe’s Guide to Spellcrafting’, Mister Potter? Quite ambitious, is it not?” The transfiguration professor asked with a raised brow.

“Well, you see professor, me and Hermione have been learning Latin for years. Hermione noticed when Professor Dumbledore visited that the spell he used to evaporate the water was a Latin word, so we thought if we learnt more about Latin we could get a better understanding of the spells we might one day be casting and we’re also hopeful it will help us understand developing new spells as well.”

“Well, it’s your own money, Mister Potter, though I admit I am glad to see you both dedicating yourself to learning this way, even if the idea of the son of Lily and James Potter developing his own spells is enough to take years off my life,” She said though Harry assumed from her tone she was joking. She became more serious a moment later, however. “I would recommend however if you’re going to pick up any books not on the list, to pick up some charms spellbooks. Your special talents seem to be derived from mainly that branch of magic so if you want to learn more those would be your best bet.”

Harry nodded and picked up three extra charms books with some guidance from McGonagall, and an extra potions book as a surprise for Hermione once he confirmed with the shopkeeper the Grangers hadn’t picked it up when they left.

While McGonagall was charming the books to be feather light, Harry took one last look around and his eyes landed on a paper. On the top of it, in large bold font, it declared itself to be ‘THE DAILY PROPHET’ and Harry was shocked to see the cover photo was moving.

It was black and white and there appeared to be a family of three posing for it, a mother (presumably) holding a wand while her husband, who had long flowing hair and an elegant face, nodded at the camera, propping himself up with a cane. He had another arm on what was presumably his son’s shoulder, a son who looked very snobby in Harry’s opinion.

‘ **_MALFOY WINS BI-YEARLY CHARMING CHARMS CONTEST; SON GIVEN ALL WINNINGS!_ **

**_By Minnie Bunyip_ **

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**_Several weeks ago, the notorious and well-respected pureblood family, the Malfoys, were shocked when someone (who at the time of writing is still unknown) managed to forcibly sign them up to the infamous charming charms competition that is held every two years._ **

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**_Despite this, the Malfoy’s were not to be put down. They took it in stride and the matriarch of the house, Narcissa Malfoy, took up her position as the representative of Malfoy house._ **

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**_There were many tasks and rules, and a lot of challenges, the full details of which can be read on page twenty-six, however in the end Mrs. Malfoy obtained victory with a self-cleaning cleaning kit that cleaned up the entire competition grounds with speed and grace, impressing everyone._ **

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**_When asked what she’d do with the mystery prize, which is revealed to no one beyond it being known to be a valuable and charmed object, she responded thusly; “I have no need of it. I only joined this competition to make a point to whoever entered us, that we are still powerful even without money and we will not tolerate this kind of foolishness being brought upon our doorstep. I will be giving it to my son, before he attends Hogwarts in a few months’ time, as he will likely have more use of it than me.”_ **

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**_When interviewed her son, Draco Malfoy, had this to say; “I’m very thankful for mother’s gift and will use it as much as I can when I am sorted into Slytherin house.”_ **

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**_Lucius Malfoy, the patriarch of the Malfoy family, declined to comment. One may speculate this is due to the fact he does not wish to deal with potential questions about why he is taking a stance in opposition to the muggle protection act currently in debate in the wizengamot. (CONT’D ON PAGE 4)_ **’

“Come on, Mister Potter. We’re done here,” McGonagall announced and Harry looked up, following her out the door taking the bag they’d been given, and walking onwards.

“Professor? What’s Slytherin?” He asked, walking at her side. “I saw it in the newspaper while we were in there.”

“Ah, it’s one of the four houses at Hogwarts,” She said, stopping to look at him with a quizzical look. “You heard me mention that I was the head of your mother and father’s house, correct?”

“Yes professor, I wasn’t sure what that meant though,” Harry answered honestly. The elderly witch sighed.

“At Hogwarts, there are four houses. This is mainly to help define who you are paired with in lessons and where you’ll stay in the school after classes. I will not tell you how the sorting works as that’s traditionally kept secret, however I can tell you this. The houses value certain traits which will help pick for you. I am the head of Gryffindor house, which both your parents were in.”

“And what traits do Gryffindors have, professor?” Harry wondered, curious. His guide smiled ruefully.

“Sometimes I suspect it’s the traits of being loud, obnoxious and fool-hardy based on some of my students. However, the actual traits, as defined by Godric Gryffindor himself, were Courage, Determination, and Chivalry.” McGonagall explained. Harry smiled, that sounded like a nice house and it made him feel good about his parents to think about them being there. “It’s quite likely you will end up being a Gryffindor yourself, Mister Potter, as children do often follow their own parent’s examples, though not always.”

“What are the other houses I might get into then, if I don’t get into Gryffindor?” Harry pondered. McGonagall seemed amused by his desire to learn. “And who is their head of houses?”

“Well, there is Hufflepuff, a very admirable house in my own opinion. Professor Pomona Sprout, the school’s herbology teacher is the head of that house.” The elderly witch hummed, as she pulled out a letter and showed it to him. He saw the Hogwarts crest and saw her tapping at the yellow part of the insignia that had a badger within it. “Never listen to those who try to put down the Hufflepuff house as the miscellaneous house, Mister Potter. They do have their own traits and very admirable ones at that. Hard work, dedication, patience, a strong sense of justice, and loyalty. Those whose exhibit such traits will surely fit in within Hufflepuff house.”

Her finger then slid over to the blue part of the insignia which had an eagle depicted on it.

“There is also the Ravenclaw house, whose head of house is Professor Filius Flitwick. He teaches the charms class, and once upon a time was a duelling instructor as well. The traits of a true Ravenclaw are wit, wisdom, learning and intelligence.”

“Oh, that’s going to be Hermione’s house.” Harry said immediately, smiling. “She’s a genius.”

“So you might think, but the sorting can surprise you.” McGonagall said, though she did seem to subtly nod her head at his assessment. “Finally, I must warn you not to take the propaganda against Slytherin at face value.”

“Propaganda?” Harry raised a brow, confused. He saw the elderly witch frowning.

“There is a common misconception, even among several adults who should know better by now, that Slytherin house is where ‘evil’ students go, which is patently false.” She said, and Harry nodded. The idea made no sense. How could they be evil so soon and why would you put all the evil ones together if so? In fact why would you keep them around at all? “That is not to say it doesn’t have… a reputation. It did produce one of the evillest wizards known to wizardkind but there are also bad eggs who have come from every house. Ravenclaw had Raine Goldfinch and Charity Medlar, Hufflepuff had Celeste Bristlecone. Even my house had…”

She winced, sighing sadly.

“My house had Sirius Black.” She shook her head and looked up. “So don’t assume Slytherin is synonymous with evil, understood? Some very nice people have come out of that house, such as Andromeda Tonks.”

“Yes ma’am.” Harry nodded fervently in understanding. “What are their traits then, professor?”

“Cunning, ambition, leadership and resourcefulness.” McGonagall frowned. “Slytherin and Gryffindor do suffer from the unfortunate detail of an intense house rivalry that spans decades, which if at all possible I’d ask you to try to not to perpetuate if you are sorted into either house. It is an unfortunate thing that only causes issues for most people.”

“Yes professor. Who is their head of house then?” Harry asked curiously, as the two finally began walking down the street again. He missed the look that briefly adorned the elderly witch’s face.

“Professor Severus Snape. He teaches potions, as the school’s potions master.” She said curtly, as though trying to move past the subject quickly. Harry couldn’t help but grin however.

“Oh, I’m really looking forward to potions.” He said matter-of-factly, not noticing McGonagall wince beside him at the statement. “I wonder what house I’ll be in then if I don’t get into Gryffindor? They all sound great to me.”

“Well, only time may really tell, Mister Potter.” McGonagall hummed, before stopping suddenly. “Oh no…”

“Professor?”

Before McGonagall could reply, Harry spotted what she had. A silvery blue and translucent bird swooped down from above and perched down right in front of the elderly witch and a voice Harry could still remember despite the several years it had been began to talk.

It was Dumbledore.

“Minerva, sorry to bother you but the rumours are not looking good. You have the letter on you, please get the item as soon as possible.”

And the bird faded. Harry blinked twice.

“Professor? What was that?”

“Never mind that, Potter. Come on.” She said, suddenly sounding urgent and taking off at a much faster pace right towards Gringotts. Her face looked a bit paler as well, now.

Try though he might to obtain answers to what was going on, he got none other than an occasional shushing. She eventually told him the very insightful answer of “It’s classified” after they were in the cart, explaining that she was only taking him along because she couldn’t leave him alone above and she needed to move immediately and off they went deep into the depths of Gringotts again.

A new goblin, Rokgrat, took them to a vault with no key, running his claw along it and causing it to open. As soon as it was, McGonagall rushed into what looked like a very empty vault, except for a single small grubby package that she immediately pocketed.

Harry had a million and one questions now but he had already realized there would be no answers coming at all. They got back in and after one more cart ride, McGonagall seemed to relax as they walked out into Diagon Alley again.

They came up to Ollivanders just in time to catch the Grangers coming out. Hermione grinned upon seeing her brother and rushed forward, wrapping him in a hug which he returned.

“We just got my wand! Vinewood, ten and a quarter inches, dragon heartstring.” She said, doing a silly impression of Ollivanders voice that made Harry chuckle. She smirked teasingly. “So? Who’s got the better wand?!”

And Harry stopped for a moment, before explaining to his family his wand’s composition and… unique history.

“You have the same wand core as…. Voldemort?” His mother asked quietly, in shock and Harry nodded. She blinked and put a hand to her head as though to massage a headache.

“But I’ll tell you what I told Mister Potter. It is no more than coincidence, I am certain,” McGonagall said firmly, before sighing. “Though I admit, it would likely be for the best if you did not let this information become public, as no doubt someone will turn it into some kind of sensationalist story.”

The Grangers nodded in understanding, before Joan pulled out the letter and looked it over one last time before blinking. “Uh… people have pet toads at Hogwarts?”

“Oh, very rarely anymore,” McGonagall replied, looking faintly amused once more. “Toads have a natural immunity to magic, you see, so they made for good practice animals before such acts were prohibited on pets, so they used to be very common. Cats are much better as actual pets, if you ask me, they have a natural ability to sense magic and so can always find you, and a good familiar will always get help for you when you are in trouble. Owls are probably the most practical however, and if you are considering getting a pet I would recommend making it an owl first. In the wizarding world, owls are how we correspond, they have an innate ability to find anyone they wish to, to deliver letters once you have told them who to take it to, no matter where they are. We have owls for use at the school but an owl who is loyal to you is always faster and more reliable, and tends to have a better idea of what might be harmful to their owners. Public use owls are too inundated with use to be able to tell what is and isn’t dangerous anymore.”

There were a few minutes of debate but ultimately, they decided that it would be a good idea to get an owl, so they had set off with McGonagall to the owl emporium.

They thought it would take a while to find a good pet owl, but they’d been proven wrong almost immediately as soon as they’d walked into the door. As soon as they’d gotten in, a snowy white owl who had been hanging out on a chandelier above immediately swooped down onto the table in front of the group, right in front of Harry. The group exchanged looks at this and Harry hesitantly held out a hand.

The owl hopped forward slightly, and pushed her head under the proffered hand, letting Harry scratch her head she ruffled her wings slightly, almost affectionately.

“Wow, I’ve never seen that before with her.” The owner behind the counter chuckled in surprise. “Normally she’s always hiding away from the customers. Must like you, kid.”

Harry and his family exchanged amused glances, and while they did look around a bit, there hadn’t really been any doubt. After about ten minutes, they were leaving with the snowy white sleeping happily in a golden birdcage held in Harry’s hand.

They went to Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour finally, sitting down around a table while McGonagall dealt with any more questions the group had. They had all shared a laugh, even McGonagall, when Harry’s first question was if she was going to have some ice cream herself. (Harry and Hermione had a very nice Neapolitan mix sundae that magically swirled around so the flavour you’d get would always be a surprise.)

They were all confused when McGonagall started talking about platform nine and three quarters at Kings Cross Station but she assured them that it existed and they’d find it just fine so long as they ran head first into the pillar with the number nine sign.

She finally smiled properly when she saw the looks she got at that, and amended her statement with an amused ‘Or merely lean against it with your charms on, that will also work.’

And with all that done, it was finally time to go home. The family buzzed with excitement as they got back, managing to land half decently using the portkey again, gaining the approval of McGonagall who wished them all a happy rest of the summer before disappearing with a crack.

Without another word, the two magical children immediately set their new owl down and found a calendar, to start marking the days until Hogwarts, now more excited than ever.


	9. From Platform 9¾ to Hogwarts

The days seemed to go both so slow and so fast at the same time to the young witch and wizard living under the Granger’s roof, depending on what was happening.

When they were in bed, or when they were helping with chores or otherwise distracted with the mundanity of life, even when Harry practiced his telekinesis with Hermione helping (he was no longer restricted to a set time now that Hermione had a wand to use, though he knew his parents would prefer he tried not to become too reliant on it), even when Hedwig who was still adjusting to this new dynamic sometimes brought the oh so lovely gift of dead mice to their mother who promptly screamed, it seemed like the clocks were moving slower than a lazy snail.

However, at the same time, when they thought about how they’d have to leave their parents soon for the first time or had to adjust to some of the things they found out while reading their textbooks (Harry never needed to know the last  _ recorded _ words his father had said had been ‘I can’t stay, my son needs me back home’ as far as he was concerned, heart hurting), and most notably when they were trying to learn about magic, the time flew.

It was due to this, plus years of their parents instilling responsible hardworking and a desire for knowledge in their children, that both Granger siblings had taken to studying even more than either of them usually did. Harry was somewhat more relaxed than his sister but the idea of Hermione actually studying more than normal was almost terrifying in its own way. The only thing she really stopped studying for was her family when they needed her.

Both children had been aware of the wizarding world for so long but were locked outside from knowing anything. They’d picked up very little knowledge or understanding of the world of magic, much less than they’d like to, and there was barely a month until they’d be going to Hogwarts.

As such, they were desperate to get as much knowledge about it into their skulls as they possibly could. After seeing a blood purist for himself, and relaying the tale to his sister who had been disgusted, they’d both agreed on some subconscious level they never wanted there to be any doubt where they belonged.

Even if Harry was partially forgetting he wouldn’t actually be that much of a worry in the eyes of blood purists, he was still raised by muggles. He didn’t want people thinking for a second he wasn’t good enough to be a wizard, not after how long he’d been waiting for this.

Hermione was clearly in the same mindset and so it would become that, when the two weren’t already studying their butts off on every single class they hadn’t even started yet (with particular attention paid to the ones that interested them most, that being Transfiguration and History of Magic for Hermione, Potions and Defense Against the Dark Arts for Harry, and Charms for both of them), and when one wasn’t studying they’d be ambushed by the other at any moment with a long held tradition the two had.

One week in, and Hermione had started by suddenly fixing Harry with a very intense look from the dining table. He’d frozen, half expecting her to go on a rant about the fact he had an odd habit of stealing ham from the fridge to eat raw which everyone else in the house found endlessly odd, but instead, she spoke up. “What’s the wand lighting incantation?”

“Uh, Lumos?” Harry raised a brow. He didn’t mean for it to come out as a question, he knew he was right, he just hadn’t expected the sudden question. Hermione nodded imperceptibly before speaking again.

“What’s the wand motion associated with Wingardium Leviosa?” She quizzed again and Harry quickly understood what was going on. Over the years, when the two knew a big test was coming up, in amongst their studying they’d surprise each other with random and very sudden pop quizzes, the idea being that if you could remember the information on the spot like that you’d be much more likely to remember it all when the test came around. For Hermione especially, Hogwarts probably was feeling like a big test, she’d be worrying about being tested on if she truly belonged there, so she’d want to bring her A-game.

Harry sat down and grinned, he wasn’t going to get this question wrong, considering the personal link he had to it.

“A swish and a flick.”

“The charm for unlocking locks?”

“Alohmora for most items not charmed against it, Aberto for doors specifically with mild defensive charms on them.”

“What’s the key factor that often causes trouble with spell casting?”

“Intent. People let their mind wander even slightly while trying to cast a spell, causing unforeseen results. A spell word isn’t actually the cause of a spell but merely a disciplinary trigger you condition yourself with to think the right thoughts to perform the spell.”

They went on like this for a good ten minutes until it closed up, with Hermione giving him an amused look. “You’re still a weirdo for eating ham like that.”

“Oi!”

A week later, it had been Harry’s turn to ambush Hermione and he’d been sure to get his revenge for when she had called him out on the ham, by talking loudly behind her when she’d been peacefully reading up on spell crafting, confirming the same theories Harry had already gone over.

“What’s the difference between Transfiguration and Charms on a fundamental level in relation to your magic?” He’d spoken firmly, doing his best to hide the smirk that threatened to appear on his face when Hermione jumped a mile in her skin and accidentally dropped the spellcasting book. She shot him a glare before speaking up.

“In charms, you cast your magic. You think of an effect and use conditioned motions to cause the effect you have in mind to happen.” She said, a hint of smugness creeping into her tone when she saw her brother being disappointed the effect of the fright hadn’t thrown her off her game. “In Transfiguration, you mould it instead of cast it. This is why it’s usually more difficult for a student to handle simple Transfiguration classes than it is for simple Charms classes, as not only do you have to envision the effect but the whole process and imagine the change taking place without getting distracted in your mind.”

“What’s the difference between spells that affect humans taught in charms and spells taught in Defense Against the Dark Arts?” Harry quizzed, not to be thrown off by one good answer.

“How detrimental and dangerous said spells are to a person. In charms, you may learn a few more simple spells such as a cheering charm.” Hermione repeated, sounding like a textbook given form. “In Defense Against the Dark Arts, you’ll learn generally more combative and defensive spells, such as Flipendo, the knockback jinx or Protego, the shielding charm.”

“Protego? Isn’t that third and fourth year material?” Harry asked, before realizing he just gave away he’d been sneaking out some of the extra books Hermione bought to read himself. She gave him an amused look and nodded.

“Yes, it is, you thief.” She said. Harry stuck his tongue out at her, making her giggle. “And if your next question is what’s the incantation for a summoning charm, it’s Accio.”

Harry glared, annoyed she knew him well enough to guess exactly what he was about to ask.

And on and on it went, changing subjects randomly every day, until they were quizzing each other three times a day, changing subjects every time, constantly increasing the difficulty of the questions every time as well, sibling rivalry shining through.

The last one, before it was finally time for them to pack up and leave for Kings Cross Station, was a Potions quiz Hermione ambushed Harry with, right in the middle of him levitating their items into their trunks as one last bit of practice.

“What is Rabbiaserum?” Hermione’s first question hadn’t managed to make him jump. He’d been expecting it at any moment.

“The aggression potion,” Harry answered immediately. “Anyone under its effects can’t help but act aggressively for a few hours.”

“How many hours?” Hermione inquired, leaning forward as if expecting to catch him out due to his vague answer.

“Between three and eight, depending on your blood type.” The telekinetic smirked, enjoying the slight glower on his sister's face that she hadn’t gotten him.

“What fruit is used in invisibility potions?” The bushy haired girl pressed on.

“Spiders.” Harry met her eye, as he used a hand to float her books into her trunk.

“You’ve got to be more specific than that.” Hermione pouted. “It’s the Whitebanded Crab Spider because of their camouflaging abilities. You wouldn’t get a lot of good marks for just saying spiders you know, most spiders don’t share the same traits.”

“Ah, there’s my lovely nagging sister. It’s been so long since I’d heard her voice,” Harry said wistfully, rolling his eyes teasingly. Hermione glared at him and stuck out her tongue. “Alright, I’ll be more thorough. Next question?”

“What is a Bezoar and where would you find it?”

“A core ingredient that cures most poisons and is found in the stomach of a goat,” Harry began. “It’s made of plant, hair or similar fibres that the animal couldn’t digest, that end up forming a sort of stone. That a good enough answer for you, ‘Mione?”

“It’s better,” She said, though her smirk betrayed her playfulness. “What colour is a standard aging potion supposed to be?”

“Green, specifically a dull green that’s not quite dark.”

“Difference between Monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“Uh… aren’t they the same thing with different names?”

“Are you sure about that?” Hermione smirked, accidentally betraying her own cards. Harry smirked back.

“Yes.” He said, resisting the urge to chuckle in triumph at the pout that came onto his sisters face. Sadly, Harry may have been good but he wasn’t perfect and against Hermione he was rarely destined to win in games of knowledge in the long run.

“If you added the root of an asphodel after it was turned to powder to an infusion that used wormwood plants, what potion would you get from those ingredients?”

“I…” Harry blinked, trying hard to remember the properties of them for clues. He answered hesitantly “A drowsiness potion?”

“Not even close.”

Harry scowled and couldn’t wait until they were allowed to use their wands to jinx her for that smug look on her face.

* * *

Kings Cross Station had been packed when they’d arrived and the Grangers weren’t even sure if it was packed with wizards and witches or if it was just a busy day in the muggle world as well. Either way, it made for decent enough cover, as there was enough going on that most didn’t pay more than a few seconds of attention to the family that had two eleven-year-old children wheeling forward trolleys with massive trunks and owls on them, though Harold Granger probably would have enjoyed making up tall tales about the reason why if anyone asked.

Soon enough they reached the area between the pillars separate platforms nine and ten and Harry and Hermione watched their parents take out the bangles McGonagall had provided them, putting them on.

“Alright, Harry, it’s probably best you go first, Sweetheart,” Joan spoke up, leaning down and kissing him on the head. They weren’t sure if their parents could follow with the amulets but they were hopeful they could. “Be safe about it.”

“Yes, mom,” Harry whined slightly, tinging pink at the show of affection before turning and taking a deep breath. He didn’t run at it, he knew that would hardly do for keeping it a secret, plus he’d be much less likely to cause a scene if things went wrong, which when you were faced with a solid wall you had to walk into seemed like a good possibility.

He didn’t let it stop him though continuing on all the way and reaching it, before feeling his trunk continue on, almost as though it was being pulled in instead of colliding with anything, followed by himself and a moment later he found himself on a new platform walking forward and looking around in amazement.

There was no doubt everyone around him now were witches and wizards, based on the cloaks, the fancy olden looking clothes, and the few in muggles clothes who really didn’t know how to appear anything other than odd. (Harry could have sworn he saw a witch wearing a bedsheet as a cloak like it was normal, yet otherwise was in perfectly normal muggle clothing.)

Much like Diagon Alley, owls were swooping about everywhere and he could see cats weaving between the legs of everyone to find their owners all over the place. There was a giant scarlet train to his right waiting in a place with a nice green landscape behind it.

Footsteps behind him a moment later got him to turn and he saw his mother approaching him, followed by his sister and their father.

“Oh my, that’s very odd.” Joan blinked, shaking herself as she adjusted to the sensation.

“Tell me about it.” Harold agreed, before looking around. “Alright, let’s find you kids a compartment. Looks like everyone’s loading up at the front so if you want an empty one it’d be around the back.”

“The back’s good for me,” Harry spoke up and Hermione voiced her agreement, so they all headed to the tail end of the train, finding an open window.

“Alright, let’s get your stuff up there.” Harold set to work, picking up Hedwig’s cage and putting the bird onto the train first, followed by a few of the smaller items they took with them such as a backpack for each kid that contained a few extra clothes and supplies they were only supposed to use if they ran out of stuff in their trunk.

Then finally it was time for said trunk and Harold bent down to pick up Harry’s only to let out a massive grunt of exertion and have to stumble back. “Jeez harry… what did you put in there, a great white shark? How are you even pushing that?”

“It didn’t seem that heavy to me,” Harry said, though that was a partial lie. He’d been using his telekinesis periodically to shove the trolley forward.

“Well, it certainly is.”

“Oi, you lot. Want some help?” A new voice spoke up and they all turned to see a tall red-headed wizard approaching. He had a lot of freckles and stood about a head and a half taller than Harry. He was clearly an upper year student. “Me and my brother take a lot of items up to the school every year, so we’re used to dealing with heavy trunks.”

“Oh, that’s very sweet of you.” Joan nodded her thanks and the boy jumped into action, grabbing one end as he looked over his shoulder to shout to someone.

“Fred! C’mere and help with this.” He shouted and a moment later it was like a clone appeared of the teen, an identical twin appearing and at the sight immediately throwing in his own helping hand, grabbing a trunk that Harry helped with. “Always at least one first year who needs some help with their trunks.”

Between the two male Grangers and the two redheads, the trunks were quickly stowed away, the Grangers thanking them profusely for their help. Just as they were moving away one of their eyes noticed Harry’s forehead and their eyes widened.

“Wait you’re—“

“Well, thank you very much for your help,” Joan cut in, turning to her children. “I think you two had better board now if you want to get that empty compartment. I love you both, stay safe. Hermione, keep your brother out of trouble.”

“Promise!”

“Hey, I’m not the troublemaker!” he pouted, only to be met with incredulous looks. “….I’m not  _ always _ the troublemaker.”

“That sounds more accurate.” Harold laughed. “Be safe Harry, both of you be sure to write. I want to hear from both of you what it’s like by the end of next month, alright?”

“Bye dad!”

“Love you!” Both kids called as they turned and climbed on, trying to meet their mother’s eyes who was silently crying and trying not to let it show as she sent her kids off on their way.

A few moments later they found their compartment and opened up the door, sinking into their seats at opposite sides of each other. After settling in, Harry sighed and Hermione gave him a small but sympathetic smile.

“Someone was going to recognize you eventually.” She sighed.

“Yeah, but it’s going to be a lot weirder once they have a chance to actually do something about it.” Harry voiced his thoughts, picking at a loose thread in the seat he found. “Hey, just one train journey until we finally get to see Hogwarts though.”

Hermione opened her mouth but Harry cut her off before she could speak, smirking knowing what she was about to say.

“The cover of ‘Hogwarts, A History’ doesn’t count.” He smirked when she stuck her tongue out at him again. “Mind you, I wonder how much of that is accurate to how it is now. I mean it was written nearly two decades ago now so there probably is some incorrect information now in it, especially depending on if they had much information on it in the first place.”

“Well, I think most of it should still hold true, the wizarding world does seem to value tradition to an almost detrimental degree at times, from what we’ve read.” Hermione pointed out thoughtfully and so for a while the two siblings found themselves immersed in a conversation about what they were expecting versus what they might actually find.

Hermione had just been talking about how she suspected that if there was one thing the book got wrong it was that Salazar Slytherin’s secret chamber probably wouldn’t be the only secret place created by one of the founders, when the door had suddenly slid open.

Harry and Hermione looked up and Harry was pleasantly surprised to see it was Daphne Greengrass standing in the doorway. “Oh um… hello. I thought this compartment was empty, sorry. It’s just there is a lot of noise and chaos going on upfront and I wanted to find a quieter spot.”

“We’re quiet.” Harry smiled awkwardly, trying not to think about how their last meeting ended. “Plus if we’re not quiet enough, I’m sure my sister would love to try a silencing charm. She’s a bit of a show-off- Ow!”

Hermione kicked his leg under the table and glared at him with a pout. Daphne however had her eyes light up, walking in. “Your muggleborn sister?”

“Yeah, the one who knows how to leave a bruise.” He glared back at her and she just shrugged before turning to the blonde. “Hermione, this is Daphne, I told you about her when we came back from Diagon Alley.”

“Hermione Granger, pleased to meet you.” She smiled. “You’re Daphne Greengrass?”

“Yes, I am.” Daphne nodded, gesturing to a seat beside Hermione. “Mind if I sit down?”

“Not at all.” Hermione smiled standing up and letting her in. Once they were sat down, there was an awkward moment of silence as they tried to figure out how to continue before Daphne spoke up, looking at Harry.

“I just wanted to say, I’m really sorry you had to experience how my mother acts. She’s very… old-fashioned.” The blonde explained, wincing as she said this. Clearly, she was thinking of a different description than the one she gave. “I don’t think the same at all, however, so please don’t think of me like her.”

“I remember.” Harry assured, giving her a reassuring smile. “I remember more how excited you got over the muggle music on display than I do how your mother acted.”

Daphne smiled at that. “Well, I can’t help it. Like I said at the time, it’s just so imaginative and creative, and it’s really good at painting an artistic and metaphorical picture. Wizarding music is still nice but symbolic music is a lot rarer because there’s far too many things that genuinely exist in the wizarding world that if they try to be metaphorical, most people get too caught up on the literal meanings.”

“Really?” Hermione asked, turning her full attention to the girl as did Harry, both immensely interested. Daphne seemed slightly surprised at the genuine attention but smiled and nodded.

“Yeah! I mean a really popular wizarding song was one by Selina Bluebell, called ‘Prettier than a Unicorn’, which a lot of people seem to think was about a girl literally being prettier than a unicorn. Of course, then most people criticize it for describing the girl’s flaws, most completely failing to miss the point of the song that the girl’s soul and heart are what made her prettier than the unicorns.”

“I doubt the artist was very happy about that misunderstanding,” Harry said with a hum and Daphne let out a small giggle.

“She really wasn’t. She explained the meaning over and over and at one concert someone tried to be all rude about the song only to get jinxed when the artist lost her patience. It was just a harmless leg locker jinx but it must have been funny to watch at the time.” Daphne said, looking very amused, the mirth making her eyes light up as she laughed about it. “But it’s precisely cause of that I prefer listening to muggle music. Not to mention even the less symbolic ones tend to have very fun melodies or beats. Heck, I don’t think the wizarding world even knows what rock music is but I wish they did.”

“Rock music?” Hermione blinked in shock. Daphne nodded, looking at her confused about her question. “Sorry, just didn’t expect you to be into it. You look very much the furthest thing from someone into rock music.”

“Oh, mother forces me to maintain an image.” Daphne sighed. “Not that I mind too much in terms of this—“ She gestured over her own body and looks. “—but still, it gets tiring and when it comes to other people…”

She bit her lip, stopping as though she wasn’t sure she should be talking about this. Then, very suddenly, she shifted gears on the spot as if trying to find a different topic.

“So, you were both raised by muggles!” She declared, an excited glint in her eyes. “Tell me about that, please? I really want to know what it’s like when you don’t grow up in the wizarding world.”

“Oh, well I suppose we can do that.” Harry chuckled playfully. “If you tell us about growing up in the wizarding world in return.”

“Deal!” Daphne grinned. “How about starting with entertainment? I hear muggles have something called a talonvision.”

“Television.” Hermione corrected with a giggle, and so they launched into explanations of each other’s worlds, the differences between them, even the small ones. Like for example, how a teddy bear was merely inanimate in the muggle world and was just meant to be held, while in the wizarding world they almost always had an animation charm on them to make them act as though they’re alive, if not very smart.

Harry and Hermione probably looked like they were discovering the greatest scientific discovery in the world for the first time ever when Daphne told them how wizards sometimes animated figures into life to act out scenes from books for entertainment or created illusions to watch, while Daphne looked similarly amazed as they explained television and how they could switch through channels at any moment, getting to see brand new shows without any idea what they were getting into at the time.

Of course, Daphne had sounded extra excited when they’d explained certain television programs would play muggle music, accompanied by an actual music video and she looked as though she’d love to see any music video at all. Maybe in the future, they could find a way to show her one. After all, it seemed they were becoming friends with her.

And there was no doubt that it was genuine as well, she wanted to be friends. There was no ulterior motive that Harry sadly knew he might have to worry about with others because she still hadn’t noticed his scar yet. He’d quickly hidden it beneath his bangs when he’d almost been recognized by the twins.

And as if summoned by the thought of them, they heard footsteps outside. Daphne had very suddenly gone wide-eyed and surprised both siblings as she grabbed a cover from above and covered herself entirely right as the handle pulled down, before opening to reveal the twins again.

In between them though, was a third redhead who must have been related to them but who had different features. He was a tall boy who was rather thin with freckles of his own and a long nose.

Neither sibling knew why Daphne had suddenly opted to hide but she had, so they respected it by pretending the oddly shaped sheet was just luggage for the moment.

“Oh, hello again,” Hermione said politely, though if one looked closely they could see she was eyeing the twins slightly as if trying to examine them.

“Hello, didn’t get a chance to introduce ourselves before-“ One twin started.

“-And Ronniekins here can’t find a compartment. We checked everywhere else but this is the only place left-” The other twin continued.

“So we thought we’d heal two witches with one potion and ask if he could join here.”

Ronniekins face tinged pink. “It’s Ron, you two know I hate that nickname.”

“And that’s why we use it.” One of the twins smirked, before turning to the two. “I’m Fred Weasley by the way, my twin’s George Weasley, and this great ugly git is our little brother Ron.”

“We gathered,” Harry said, sounding a tad amused as he watched a different set of siblings interacting. “Seat beside me is free.”

Ron sighed in relief and sat down, though his brothers didn’t immediately leave. Before they could say anything though, all three red heads jumped when Daphne very suddenly re-emerged from her fabric confines, sighing loudly in relief.

“Blimey!” George said, having jumped in his skin before grinning. “Got us, that’s rare! Where’d you come from?”

“Sorry, thought you lot were… someone else.” She said vaguely before coughing and wrinkling her nose. “Oh, I regret using that blanket. It’s hard to breathe under there.”

“Well, since you’ve introduced yourselves, I’m Hermione Granger,” Hermione spoke up, reaching over to shake their hands, her bushy brown hair bouncing around as she did so. Both twins looked very amused at someone electing to shake their hands.

“Oh, I feel so important!” Fred joked.

“As do I, good sir!” George replied in an equally amused tone.

“You can ignore them, they’re prats,” Ron said, clearly suppressing a smile when both brothers put their hands to their hearts.

“Prats?!”

“Oh how you wound us, little brother…”

“Guess we’ll just have to prove it true as revenge!”

Ron rolled his eyes. Clearly, this was normal behaviour for the twins. Daphne seemed to hesitate for a moment before she reached over as well. “Daphne. Nice to meet you.”

And then, finally, it was just Harry left, and he sighed when he saw the twins’ eyes go up to his forehead briefly. Might as well get it over with.

He brushed the bangs aside, revealing his scar. Hermione sighed, Ron looked at it with awe, the twins looked like they’d won a million pounds.

Daphne, admittedly, did have a reaction that amused Harry. She simply sat there, staring, as her eyes slowly widened and her jaw dropped. It was honestly pretty funny to watch her slow realization.

“Harry Potter-Granger.”

“Blimey, you are him!” George spoke up, hitting Fred’s arm. “I told you!”

“Potter-Granger?” Ron questioned, furrowing his brow. Harry sighed.

“I was adopted by a muggle family and decided to take a double-barrelled name to honour my birth parents.” He explained simply.

“You’re Harry Potter…” Daphne muttered in shock, staring wide-eyed, manners forgotten in her surprise.

“And that scar, is that where-“ Fred had begun to ask but he didn’t get far into the question.

“That’s enough.” Hermione’s voice cut like a knife through the compartment, bringing all eyes to her. “It’s awkward enough for him dealing with the fact he’s famous for something he can’t remember, but asking him questions about his parents dying is not on and I won’t stand for anyone making my brother uncomfortable with it.”

“Oh shoot… she’s got a point, Fred.” George pointed out and for their part, they did all look slightly ashamed as they realized what they were doing. Ron was the one who seemed to find a way to move on from the awkwardness as he turned to the girl.

“Wait, you’re his sister? How’s that then?”

Hermione blinked but she explained—in as little detail as possible in regards to Harry’s backstory—how he’d come to join the Grangers and how she wouldn’t let anyone hurt her brother, just as he wouldn’t let anyone hurt her. Both shared a smile at that for a moment while the others digested it.

“Harry Potter… with a muggleborn sister,” Fred muttered before suddenly laughing after a moment. “Oh, that’s too much.”

“We’d never be able to come up with something so brilliant!” George added with a laugh.

“What are you two talking about?” Daphne asked confused and Ron looked bemused.

“Pranksters.” He said as if that explained everything.

“Nothing we’re ever going to do is going to cause an uproar like you two will and you’re not even trying! Ha!” George suddenly bowed with a grin. “We are forced to salute you.”

“Oh yes indeed.” Fred followed, still laughing his head off. “But we can’t stay. Our friend Lee’s got a tarantula down at the front he’s showing off we want to see, we just thought we’d help our brother find a compartment first. Cheers!”

And with that, both twins suddenly turned, walking off and laughing all the while.

“They’re… lively.” Harry settled on after a moment, though he had to admit something about their laughter was contagious and he couldn’t help a small smile.

“Tell me about it.” Ron shook his head. “Mum’s always yelling at them for some new scheme or something, except when they’re at Hogwarts. Then she’s yelling at the air while clutching whatever new letter she’s got about them generally causing some havoc.”

“A _very_ lively pair then.” Daphne surmised with a giggle. “Still, must mean your house is never boring with them around, got to love that.”

“I suppose.” Ron said, though his tone clearly betrayed he didn’t seem to think the same. “It’s nice in the moment for a laugh but it also means there’s a lot to live up to. I have five brothers to try and match and considering one of them was head boy, the other was a quidditch captain, one is a prefect and the twins are geniuses when it comes to enchantments, it’s daunting. Especially cause if I do pretty much anything good, even though everyone expects me to, it’s not a big deal anyways. The others have probably already done it.”

Harry and Hermione winced. Both knew what it felt like to be jealous of their sibling, but they had it easy compared to Ron, especially as neither really cared much in the long run about the cause of their jealousy while Ron’s seemed to be something he’d have to contend with constantly. Though if all of his family had gone, and they had that many, that almost definitely confirmed they were purebloods then.

Before either could say anything though, it was Daphne who spoke up.

“It must be nice to at least know they definitely love you though. From what I understand siblings can be annoying but good ones still love you and that must be comforting to know.” She said, before sighing. “My younger sister won’t even look me in the eye, our mother has her whipped to believe the same nonsense she does about blood purity. Though if she’s scared I don’t blame her, mother really isn’t pleasant when she’s mad.”

“That doesn’t sound good.” Harry frowned seeing her wince as she said that and Daphne sighed, giving a ‘what-can-you-do’ shrug that left a pit in his stomach. He wondered if this was how the Grangers felt when they thought about the Dursleys, except with much more on the surface anger of course.

“What about you?” She cut in quickly, clearly not wanting to dwell on it. “You two must have a good family life?”

“Oh, we’re very average.” Hermione assured. “Family of four, mother, brother, sister, there’s nothing too unique about us.”

“Other than their little rules for learning that have turned you into a walking encyclopedia?” Harry asked teasingly, ducking under a half-hearted swing from his sister.

“Very funny.” She said dryly.

“I know I am,” Harry replied cheekily, earning a glare from his sister and a chuckle from their audience. “In all seriousness though, other than our parents having a thing about making sure we learn as much as possible all the time, we really are just a regular muggle family more or less. Do homework, then sit around and watch television or read books, do chores. Just whatever to pass the time. Our parents can be a bit strict at times but we love them and they love us.”

“Sounds very nice.” Daphne smiled, though there was a small hint of sadness behind it. Before Harry could investigate into that, however, Ron spoke up with a very tactless question.

“Do you ever wonder what your birth parents were like?” he asked, only to get two glares and a surprised look. “What?”

“That’s a very tactless thing to ask.” Daphne frowned at him.

“And could be worded much nicer, even if now is not the best time,” Hermione said, looking like the protective big sister she was meant to be.

“It’s fine,” Harry spoke up, sighing and rubbing the back of his neck. “Honestly, not really. I mean from what I know they weren’t bad parents, so that’s good, but I never really knew them at all? The only memory I have of them is…”

He winced suddenly. In his mind, he saw a green light and heard a high, cruel laugh.

“Anyways, there’s not much point in pondering over it to me.” Harry shrugged. “Voldemort made sure of that.”

Daphne winced, once more going wide-eyed while Ron let out an audible gasp.

“What?”

“You said his name!” Daphne pointed out, looking stunned. Harry and Hermione shared a look before rolling their eyes in tandem.

“Yeah, it’s not hard.” He said sarcastically. “Bob, Marty, Sarah, Drew, Jessica, McGonagall, Harold, Lily, Brian, Dumbledore, Voldemort! See, easy to say names.”

“Harry.” Hermione shook her head, but a small smirk played on her features. “I do agree though with my brother in what he’s actually  _ trying _ to say. There’s no point in fearing a name when nothing happens from saying it. To be afraid of the name is to merely increase fear of the thing itself. Refusing to call Voldemort by his name just increases fear of him.”

“And that was precisely what Voldemort“ Another flinch from both purebloods. “—wanted. Even if he’s dead now, he ruined my life for years. He is many things, clearly, a great big massive prat being one of them, but what he is not is here right now. And even if he was, I refuse to give him the satisfaction. Not after what he did to me.”

There was a moment of silence in the compartment of that as they all looked at him before Ron let out an impressed whistle.

“Bloody hell. I’d have thought, you of all people… I tell you, mate, I’ll be shocked if you don’t get into Gryffindor with a take like that.” The redhead exclaimed with a chuckle.

“It  _ is _ a really impressive show of character,” Daphne admitted with a soft smile. Hermione and Harry shared amused looks.

“I don’t know about the Gryffindor thing, I’m not trying to be brave by saying it.” Harry shrugged. “Though I suppose it would be nice to be in the house my birth parents were in.”

“Oh in that case you’re probably a shoe-in.” Daphne hums. “Most people share a house with their parents. Though there are some exceptions…”

“Well, I hope it won’t be me,” Ron spoke up with a sigh. “My entire family have all been Gryffindors and they’re proud of it. It would be really awkward if I wasn’t in Gryffindor.”

“Oh, I don’t think it would be so bad. It’s not like the other houses are anything to laugh at, they all have their positive traits.” Hermione smiled. “Personally, I think Ravenclaw would be a really nice house to be in. I’ve been trying to learn so much about the wizarding world, I’ve been reciting potions recipes in my sleep and practicing incantations every day, not to mention how much studying I’ve been doing. It will be like having it confirmed I’ve been doing enough.”

“You definitely sound like the Ravenclaw type.” Daphne giggled. “Just be sure to actually breathe and try to live between the studying, most of them forget to.”

Hermione blushed and Harry cackled, knowing Hermione often had exactly that problem.

“Yeah, I suppose it wouldn’t be so bad. Plus, everyone gives Hufflepuffs a hard time but they’re also probably the most overall liked house. No one really has any bad blood with the Hufflepuffs.” Ron hummed. “Just as long as I’m not in Slytherin. I’d get on the train and come running right back if I was sorted there.”

“Slytherin isn’t bad either.” Daphne frowned, sounding defensive. “Just because it has a bit of a bad reputation doesn’t mean everything about it is bad. They have some of the smartest students in the school after the Ravenclaws.”

“Well I suppose, but they say there isn’t a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn’t from Slytherin.” Ron frowned. Hermione scoffed.

“If that’s true, I’ll eat my robes,” Hermione said, raising a brow. “I highly doubt evil is a house trait in the school.”

“Plus there’s evil wizards from every house,” Harry repeated what McGonagall told him. “Ravenclaw had Goldfinch, Hufflepuff had Bristlecone and even Gryffindor apparently had one called Sirius Black, so it’s definitely not confined to any one house.”

“Huh… I actually didn’t know that.” Ron said in surprise. “Still though, it does have the highest number of dark witches and wizards produced…”

“Maybe so but it’s not a guarantee. You aren’t dark because you’re Slytherin. No one is bad because of circumstances, it might help give cause, but a bad person is only bad because they choose to be bad.” Harry said simply, before groaning. “Unless mind control exists in the wizarding world.”

“...Sorry mate.”

Harry let out another groan. Well, that was wonderful to know.

“I will probably be a Slytherin,” Daphne spoke after a moment. Ron looked startled by this admission. “Greengrass’ have always been Slytherins for centuries.”

“You’re a Greengrass?” Ron asked, sounding vaguely uncomfortable now.

“Yes I am, not that I really want to be.” She sighed. Ron didn’t look put at ease by this, however, keeping a wary eye on her.

They were fortunately saved by the door sliding open and a plump witch appearing with a cart full of snacks asking if they wanted any. Hermione looked like she was struggling to pick one thing knowing their parents would object to an overload of sweets, Ron said he already had a lunch, and Daphne eyed the treats longingly but didn’t dare ask for one.

So Harry took it upon himself to help them, taking out a pouch and slamming down several galleons. Ron dropped his sandwich in shock.

“We’ll take three of each.”

“Harry!”

“Yes?” Harry asked with a smile. “We won’t know what we like if we don’t try them all, and I’m sure mum and dad will overlook it just this once.”

Hermione bit her lip before sighing and waving her hands in a gesture telling him to go ahead.

Daphne and Ron looked at him like the Messiah had arrived. In fairness, probably any eleven-year-old would at the gesture.

That was how, twenty minutes later, they were surrounded by wrappers and trying all kinds of sweets. Chocolate Frogs that really hopped were one of Harry’s favourites, though Hermione wasn’t too keen on them as she wasn’t much a fan of chocolate. Pumpkin pasties which were by far the most normal sweet were his sister’s personal choice of the snacks, enjoying them the most. Ron especially enjoyed Fentula’s Fading Fudge, a fudge that turned the consumer briefly translucent as they chewed on the fudge. They all enjoyed the cauldron cakes which were small cupcakes in the shape of cauldrons with a whole mixture of tastes making it up.

Then, of course, being dumb kids, they couldn’t resist the temptation to try Bertie Botts Every Flavour Beans, which Daphne and Ron warned were very accurate in their name, sharing their horror stories of bogey flavoured and toilet water flavoured beans. They agreed to try five beans each, which took up the whole box.

Harry struck a happy medium of two good beans of chocolate and strawberry mousse, a mediocre but not necessarily bad bean in a cheese flavoured one and two bad ones in a dirt flavoured bean and one that tasted like sulphur. His sister was a tad more fortunate as she only got one bad one in one that tasted like a particularly horrible cough medicine, two that were fairly neutral to Hermione in the form of one that tasted like tears, and one that tasted like sprouts. Then there were the good ones, one that tasted like bacon and one that Hermione freaked them all out with when she said in a calm voice ‘Oh, the blood of my enemies!’

They only realized it was meant to be a joke when she broke down laughing at their faces. “Just kidding! It’s pork.”

They’d all sighed in relief and Ron had gotten started on his. Ron had the worst luck by far, getting four bad ones in a row before he got a good one, much to the rest of the group’s amusement, especially as he kept trying to eat the next bean to wash the flavour out of the previous one which led to the brilliant sight of his scrunched up and horrified face as he went from tripe, to sardine, to glue and capped off with a soap flavoured beans. The entire compartment was howling at his misfortune as he described to them each one even as he reached for the next bean, finally finishing on a vanilla ice cream one he was likely immensely grateful for, as it washed away the taste in his mouth.

Daphne had been a tad hesitant to follow up on the show once they’re recovered from their laughter but she had indeed proved to have better luck than any of them, having the exact opposite of the situation Ron did, with her having only one bad bean which was a grass flavoured bean, while her other beans were all good ones; éclair, strawberry, bubble gum, and apple.

Speaking of Daphne and the sweets, the girl showed remarkable restraint with them all, clearly not wanting to spoil her appetite or risk overeating. There was a single exception to her cautious eating, however.

The exploding bonbons, which really exploded in your mouth, seemed to bring out a whole other side of her. She was scoffing them down like the world would end if she didn’t and when Ron insinuated no one could handle the explosions if they took them all at once, Daphne clearly saw it as a challenge and poured the rest of the bag into her mouth at once.

There was no doubt the sight of the blonde, cheeks puffed out with bonbons as one could hear the explosions inside her mouth, glaring at the redhead and looking him right in the eye was quite the amusing sight. To her credit as well, Daphne proved she could handle it, slowly chewing and swallowing, eventually getting them all down, met with a round of applause even if Hermione was shaking her head. Harry secretly agreed with Ron when he called the blue-eyed girl a bit mental.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end and just as they were putting the wrappers of the sweets away and agreeing it might be for the best if they saved the rest for up at Hogwarts (Hermione going on about a stasis charm she was excited to use), they heard footsteps approaching followed by a drawling voice. “Think they said he was in here.”

Daphne went noticeably pale before abandoning everything else to get herself under the sheet again, accidentally kicking Hermione’s leg as she got under and went still. Ron shared a confused look with the others who quickly gestured to him to be quiet about it by putting their fingers to their lips. They didn’t know what it was about either but they should respect it for the moment.

The door opened and Harry was surprised when he came face to face with the snobby looking Malfoy boy from the newspaper he saw in Diagon Alley, who had bragged about being likely to get into Slytherin. On either side of him were two very mean and thick looking boys, who looked almost like bodyguards. One was large and fat with a fat neck and arms that reminded Harry of a gorilla, while the other was a bit thinner though still big, with broad shoulders, small dull eyes, and long arms.

“So is it true?” The Malfoy boy spoke up. He was pale and had blonde hair, and he looked as snobby as he had in the paper. “They’re saying all over the train Harry Potter’s in here. So it’s you then?”

His eyes landed on Harry and noticed his scar with interest. Harry immediately got a bad feeling in him, feeling his magic swirl inside silently as though expecting to have to be used. Pushing down the sensation, Harry was polite despite the rude introduction. “Yes, that’s me. Who are you?”

“Malfoy. Draco Malfoy.” He sneered, only for Ron to cough, clearly trying (and failing) to hide a snicker. “Think my name’s funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. Red hair, freckles, shabby clothes. You must be a Weasley.” 

Ron immediately looked a lot less amused and much more annoyed.

“There’s no need for that,” Hermione said, frowning. Draco’s sneer turned to her. “For that matter, there’s not much need to barge in here in the first place. If you really wanted to meet Harry you could have waited until School was going on, instead of barging in just to gawk at him.”

“No one asked you,” Draco said, narrowing his eyes. Harry felt his temper begin to rise now that Draco had shut down his sister. “Who even are you?”

“Hermione Granger.” She answered, eyeing him warily. Draco sneered.

“So muggleborn filth—“ Harry did stand up at that, very fast, walking to the door as his temper went from zero to one hundred in the blink of an eye.

“I’m only going to say this once, so listen carefully,” He said, in a deathly quiet voice that promised a painful punishment for interruption. “No one, and I do mean no one, is going to bully my sister without suffering serious consequences and I promise you, they won’t be the kind any teacher will dole out on you. Understood?”

Draco eyed him, before clearly sensing he’d hit a boundary. Yet despite that, he tried to press on. “You’re new, so you still have time to learn, Potter. It might be hard if you’ve had to live with  _ that _ , and been fed rubbish by the weasel, but you’ll soon learn there are better families than others. I can teach you how to spot the wrong sort—“

“No thanks.” Harry cut in, eyes flashing dangerously as he grabbed the door, smacking Draco’s hand down out the way first. “I can already spot it when it’s right in front of me.”

And without hesitation he slammed the door shut, silently using his telekinesis for a moment to ensure it would stay that way as he sat down. Ron stared at him wide-eyed before clapping him on the shoulder.

“That… was bloody brilliant! Fred and George are going to love it when they hear how you put that prat in his place!” Ron laughed. Hermione frowned, however.

“I suppose that makes the first purist…” She sighed. The blankets moved and Daphne re-emerged once more, sighing aloud.

“Draco Malfoy. The Malfoys are some of the worst purists there are,” She explained, wincing.

“Not to mention his dad used to work for You-Know-Who. Says he was under mind control but lots of people reckon it was a lie. Malfoy didn’t need mind control to want to join him,” Ron spoke up, shuddering before turning to Daphne. “And what was that hiding thing all about?”

She sighed, wincing before she spoke up. “Like I told you before, I’m a Greengrass, and as Harry saw in Diagon Alley… My mother is about the worst kind of blood purist there is. More than that, she’s very well known amongst other purebloods, she goes to all sorts of parties and that with them and so she’s friends with them. Which means they talk to each other, and pureblood kids are expected to always be in correspondence with their parents while at Hogwarts.”

Harry frowned deeply as he saw where this was going, not liking the implications. Hermione seemed to have come to the same conclusion as she let out a sad sigh. Ron still hadn’t figured out where it was going, however.

“So if any of the pureblood kids see me talking to muggleborns or what they call ‘blood traitors’, possibly an even stupider concept than blood purity, they’d write back to their parents. Their parents would contact my mother….” Daphne trailed off, shuddering violently. Even Ron got the implications, frowning as they all felt bad for the girl. “Anyways, moving on from that, the train’s been going for quite a while. We’re probably gonna arrive soon. We should get changed.”

She obviously just didn’t want to focus on the subject, but the others agreed. Harry and Ron grabbed their cloaks and headed out of the room to the bathroom (fortunately, Malfoy had stalked away completely), while the girls changed in the compartment.

On returning, there had been another twenty minutes of general discussion before they finally arrived on the platform and they all left the train, coming on to a platform. Most of the taller students, who almost all towered completely over the Granger siblings, took off towards a path up ahead, where Harry thought he could see carriages.

The first years however didn’t, because there was something else getting their attention.

“FIRS’ YEARS OVER HERE! FIRS’ YEARS THIS WAY PLEASE! C’MON NOW, AIN’T GOT ALL DAY!” A heavily accented and deep booming voice sounded, making all the first years look over to see an absolute giant of a man. He had shaggy long brown hair and a very messy brown beard going down to his chest that also covered most of his face. In one of his hands, which were the size of dustbin lids, he held up a lantern to signal to the first years to come to him, as though his immense size wasn’t enough of a clue to who was shouting at them. He had black eyes that had a glint to them and he wore a large overcoat made of some kind of skin. “FIRS’ YEARS THIS WAY!”

Everyone hurried over, Harry and Hermione finding themselves near the front of the group, Ron not too far behind. Harry looked around and faltered when he realized Daphne had disappeared.

Looking around, he was sad to see she had joined a group of not so pleasant looking individuals. He was willing to bet his wand they were purebloods.

“Harry! I haven' seen yeh since yeh were jus’ a little baby.” The man said, surprising the siblings as they looked up in surprise.

“You know who I am?” Harry asked in shock, as the man had implied he actually knew Harry not as someone famous but had interacted with him in the past. Hermione looked equally as shocked.

“O’ Course. Yeh're parents introduced me. Doubt yeh remember me name though, Rubeus Hagrid, keeper o' keys an' grounds up here at ole Hogwarts.” Hagrid introduced himself, smiling.

“You knew my mum and dad?” Harry asked, excitement beginning to flow through him.

“Oh yeah, I knew yeh're parents all righ’. They were great people.” Hagrid beamed, before turning to his side, looking at Harry’s sister. “An' here's Hermione. Dumbledore mentioned yeh moved families. Yeh're his sister, righ'? Hope yeh both get along!”

“Oh, we do, for the most part.” Hermione smiled, her cheeks going red at being recognized. Harry however noticed something else that made him frown.

“You knew I moved families?”

Hagrid looked as though he just took a bullet to the chest (not that an actual bullet seemed like it would do much to him) as he heaved out one great big sigh and turned to Harry again.

“I'm... I'm the one who took ya ter the Durlseys. I didn' wan' ter let yeh go but Dumbledore had insisted it was fer the bes'. I never thought ter question 'im. I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.” He said, sounding genuinely saddened. Harry felt his stomach do a flip as he went through an entire emotional journey in just a few seconds. There was shock, followed by anger that he’d been left, quickly replaced by shame for the anger as Hagrid had explained why and sounded so genuinely remorseful, then finally he landed on merely having to accept it. He couldn’t be mad for something that happened so long ago, that Hagrid couldn’t have known the consequences of.

“I forgive you,” Harry said, though he hoped it sounded more sincere to Hagrid that it sounded for him. His voice was probably showing more of his surprise than his forgiveness. The giant did seem to look at least a little better so that was good, as he stood up.

“Glad ta hear it. I’ll hafta catch up with yeh la’er. I want ta talk to yeh properly soon, but got stuff ta do righ’ now.” He said, before looking up. “FIRS’ YEARS HERE PLEASE! THA’ ALL THE FIRS’ YEARS?”

Once they were all gathered up, Hagrid led them over to a lake where there were a bunch of boats waiting. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all shared a boat along with a round-faced boy who introduced himself as Neville Longbottom through a slight stutter, clutching a frog in hand. Though he wouldn’t say it out loud, Harry thought Neville looked very, very clumsy.

He was proven right when the boy almost stepped into the lake instead of a boat. They sailed on ahead once they were all in boats as a group, and Harry noticed Malfoy sailing near the front, shooting dirty looks at his group which made the telekinetic roll his eyes.

Soon enough they passed under a rocky formation and when they came out the other side they let out gasps of awe at the towering sight of Hogwarts castle that they were greeted with. It was all lit up and it radiated magic and warmth, as well as power and protection.

Something about the place felt so right that Harry felt his soul settle in a way it usually only did when using his telekinesis.

They went through a dark tunnel and soon reached a harbour of sorts that seemed to take them underneath the castle. They all clambered out onto the smooth dry stone waiting for them and once Hagrid had made sure everyone was present, they had all set off up a passageway, before coming out onto damp grass in the shadow of the castle.

They soon reached a large, oak door that towered over even Hagrid. It seemed to be designed to let giants in.

“Everyone ready? Tidy yerselves up now if ye need ta!”

When he was met with shouts of confirmation that they were ready from the students, Hagrid raised his fist and knocked three times on the wooden door, which swung open after a moment, and out came a familiar elderly witch in emerald robes.

“The firs’ years, professor!”

“Thank you, Hagrid. I will take over from here. The ceremony will be starting soon.”

McGonagall had arrived to take them for their sorting.


	10. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor

McGonagall looked as strict as ever as her eyes wandered over the students briefly, though if Harry wasn’t seeing things he thought he saw her eyes light up a tad when she looked at him and Hermione.

“Everyone, please follow me and don’t dawdle.” She instructed firmly, instantly commanding respect which she gained easily as if she had cast a spell over them. As amusing a thought that was considering where they were, Harry knew it wasn’t accurate. She was just good at commanding an audience.

She turned on her heel and walked into the castle, heading for a flight of stairs. The students followed quickly, not wishing to get on the woman’s bad side. They climbed up some more stairs and came upon an entrance hall so wide Harry was sure he could fit three houses in it and still have room left over, assuming they were all the same size as his own. There was a large marble staircase leading to the upper floors.

There was another large door and they could hear a lot of voices carrying through from the other side, no doubt the rest of the students who had already arrived. McGonagall did not take them to the other students, however, instead bringing them all into a small side chamber which was a tad cramped once the entire group was within.

McGonagall found her way to the front and gained their attention quickly with a simple clearing of her throat. “Attention, all of you. Welcome to Hogwarts.” She said, though she never smiled, fixing each and everyone one of them with her stern gaze instead briefly. “The start-of-term banquet will be starting shortly, however before that, we must first find out which house you will be in and thus, where you shall be sitting. The sorting ceremony is a long-held tradition of Hogwarts and no doubt those of you who have grown up in wizarding families and those who have read up on their history books will be aware of the ceremony, if not what it entails.”

That got all the first years looking between each other briefly, wondering just what exactly they were about to encounter. McGonagall continued her speech, pulling their attention back to her.

“While you are in this castle and attending this school, your house will be something like your family. You will attend classes with those in your house, you will spend time in your houses common room, you will share a dormitory with housemates of your year and you will earn your house points via your triumphs and particular acts worthy of such a reward, while rule-breaking, foolishness and general buffoonery are liable to lose you points.” She said, a glint in her eyes promising those who fell into the latter category a quick retribution. “At the end of the year, when all house points are tallied up, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup which has long been considered a great honour. I hope you will make each of your houses proud to have you as one of them, wherever you end up. The ceremony will begin in a few moments now, in front of the other students. I’d recommend smartening yourselves up as much as possible.”

Her eyes roamed over every individual student as she said that last line, as if scrutinizing them all for the tiniest flaws, inspiring a sudden wave of last second adjustments. Some people adjusted their robes, Ron quickly wiped his face, Harry tried to flatten out his hair a bit, Hermione fixed a strap in her cloak that had been somewhat uneven.

Even the best looking amongst them were doing something. Harry spotted Daphne altering her hair, not that he really thought it was necessary. She looked great without the change anyways. The only ones who didn’t were Malfoy and his bodyguards, the latter because they didn’t seem to know what smarten meant, while Malfoy was sneering with a confident smirk on his pale face completely unaware of the crumbs from a pumpkin pasty dirtying his upper lip.

“I shall return when we are ready for you,” McGonagall assured them all before leaving into the next room on her own. Chatter instantly broke out amongst the first years. Harry elected to merely listen for the moment.

“How do we get sorted anyways? Does anyone know?” A tall black boy had wondered, looking around the others. Ron was the one who answered.

“Some sort of test I think. My brother said it hurts a lot but he usually jokes about that kind of thing,” the redhead said. “Trying to get me all jumpy, going on about fighting a troll.”

“I doubt a troll would be allowed in the school,” a girl with red hair in a plait said, though she looked nervous. A blonde girl with a pink face and pigtails let out a frightened squeak. She was a tad on the pudgy side but in the cute way that was normal for most children instead of the revolting way Harry vividly remembered Dudley being even now. Something that took up that much of your line of sight didn’t easily leave your mind. “A test does sound a bit more reasonable though.”

Some people looked slightly at ease at hearing that, such as a brown short-haired boy with his fringe swept to either side who had square glasses and dark black eyes while several other people—such as the round-faced boy who had joined the Granger siblings boat, looked nervous.

Hermione, falling into one of her nervous habits Harry had learned to recognize, began listing off incantations under her breath to try and calm her nerves and remind herself she knew what she was doing. Harry had been very nervous as well for a few moments before he’d remembered he had a distinct advantage over everyone if he needed to use magic.

And that realization had helped him calm down enough to realize it almost definitely didn’t matter anyways. The teachers had never specified in the letter a certain book to read, so why would they expect them to know the exact things needed for a test? No reasonable educator would expect the children to have definitely read every book without any guidance on which one they’d need for a test that the muggleborns would have no knowledge of.

No, it had to be something other than spellcasting, especially as spells would have very little to do with personality, which was clearly the real key component in whatever it was they were about to do. After all, McGonagall had explained the houses valued certain traits related to one’s personality, not their magic.

Perhaps they would be given a quiz on how they would respond to certain scenarios, based on a variety of options and those options would be tallied up to determine which house fit them best?

It seemed something of a sensible approach yet Harry doubted it. It seemed far too scientific and rigid and not very magical at all. The very first experience with a school of magic probably should be some kind of magic, so chances are it would be something else. Maybe they’d have spells cast on them in front of a watching audience?

He was brought out his thoughts by some screams. He felt Hermione grab his hand and he quickly squeezed hers in reassurance as he turned around to see what was going on, before gasping.

White as a pearl and somewhat translucent, twenty figures floated through the walls, just like ghosts. Which, if Harry had to guess, they probably were!

"Forgive and forget, I say, we ought to give him a second chance—" A short and fat monk looking ghost was talking, only to be interrupted by a ghost in a ruff and tights.

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost—I say, what are you all doing here?"

  
  
  


Nobody answered when the ghost in tights suddenly interrupted himself to ask, having noticed them all.

"New students!" The monk-like ghost cried out happily, smiling at them all. "About to be Sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded quietly, stunned at the sight. Harry focused more on the words than the spectacle for the moment. The ghost in tights had been surprised to see new students? Was he a new ghost or was this a routine? Or perhaps ghosts were on repeat in their actions? Perhaps an illusion—he shook his head as he realized he was falling into what he affectionately called ‘Hermione’ mode.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

Before anyone could respond, the sharp voice of McGonagall suddenly had everyone whirling back around again to see her in the doorway. “The ceremony is about to begin. Everyone form a line, single file, and follow me.”

They all rushed to do as they were told, Hermione stepping behind her brother and Ron in front of him. Daphne was a few people forward, the black boy from before just behind her and the red and blonde haired girls right at the front. The boy with square glasses was two students behind Hermione.

The ghosts all floated away through the walls as the students did this.

They walked out the chamber and across the hall to a set of double doors which McGonagall opened with a wave of her wand, leading the first years down the hall at a steady march. It was a marvellous place to behold, four long tables going all the way from one end of the hall to another, where one last smaller table spanned the width of the hall instead of the length, where all the staff seemed to be sat. The lighting seemed to be coming from the thousands of candles up above that were floating magically in a similar fashion to the objects Harry used his telekinesis on, though this seemed to be without anyone putting a constant focus on it like Harry would have to and the wax didn’t drip from the candles, so no one was being covered in melted wax, which was also good. On the tables themselves, there were hundreds upon hundreds of golden plates, cutlery, and goblets.

All around, older students from second to seventh year all looked at the younger students joining them, whispering about them. Well, some were whispering, some were louder such as the twins who quickly attracted the attention of their brother as well as Harry and Hermione. The younger set of siblings gave awkward waves the twins returned with bright, jaunty smiles.

Soon they reached the front where McGonagall had them all stop as she went to get an item. While she was distracted Harry’s eyes briefly turned skyward, noticing the seeming lack of a ceiling, the endless expanse of the night sky, and the stars twinkling above them. It was exceptionally clear, just as it had been outside.

“It’s not really open,” Hermione whispered quietly. “It’s—“

“Charmed to look like it. We read the same books, ‘Mione.” He reminded her in an equally quiet and also very amused whisper, watching her turn pink slightly. He knew the only reason she didn’t smack him was because they were in front of so many people, which just made him have to fight a smirk off his face.

McGonagall came back and put down a four-legged stool in front of them all, on top of which she set down a pointed wizards hat, that was extremely dirty as well as patchy and frayed. It looked like parts of other hats had been glued on to repair it.

Harry wondered what the purpose of it was. He was almost certain it was charmed. He could sense a trickle of something in the air, just like his own telekinesis but belonging to someone else when it was settled down. The question is what was it charmed to do?

He got at least one answer when suddenly, it twitched and then a rip near the brim of the hat opened wide, starting a loud though slow song.

“Let me tell you a story;

Oh, you may say ‘Don’t bore me’

But it’s important we have this chat,

For I am the sorting hat!

You see, once upon a time

In a world of magic so good it ought to be a crime,

There lived two young wizards and a duo of witches,

With magic so mighty and wits quicker than snitches!

Godric Gryffindor the brave,

Who one could never quite get to behave!

Rowena Ravenclaw the wise,

Possibly the most well respected before her demise!

Helga Hufflepuff the kind,

Willing to nurture any student’s mind!

And Salazar Slytherin the cunning,

With magical prowess so stunning!

Well they started a school for the children of magic,

They considered a lack of education quite tragic;

That was how when their times had passed I came to be,

The one to continue on their wishes and legacies, that’s me!

So step up now and try me on,

Let’s see what traits I shall come upon!

Are you brave like old Godric?

Or like Helga is fairness your forte?

Will you join Salazar as someone slick?

Or like Rowena, is it knowledge that will make you stay?

Don’t be shy now, there’s only one way to learn where you should go,

I will know when you put me upon your head every con and pro,

Put me on and sit down here where I am sat,

I’ll tell you where you’ll go, for I  _ am _ the sorting hat!”

Once it was obvious the song was over the entire hall burst into applause, the hat bowing to each of the four tables before going still again. The first years traded amazed looks and Ron let out a quiet sigh of relief. “No troll then.”

Harry chuckled quietly at that as McGonagall stood to the side of the stool, unfurling a parchment. “Now then. When I call your name, you will come up here, sit down, and have the hat placed upon its head. When it calls out your house, you will go sit down with them. Abbot, Hannah!”

The blonde girl with the pink face from before quickly stumbled over, sitting down. McGonagall placed the hat on her head. It fell down past her eyes and after a moments pause—

“HUFFLEPUFF!” The hat bellowed. Hannah took the hat off, quickly rushing to a table that was cheering loudest which was the innermost table on Harry’s right, while the others all politely applauded. Several older students welcomed the blonde girl to their table warmly. The Hufflepuff ghost looked ecstatic.

“Bitterwood, Archie!”

“GRYFFINDOR!” The hat cried after a boy with long brown hair had put it on. The table that was the absolute farthest to Harry’s right, beside the Hufflepuffs, exploded with the loudest cheers Harry had ever heard in his life as the boy made his way over to them, being pulled into a seat beside a red-head who looked suspiciously like a fourth Weasley.

“Bones, Susan!” it was the girl with red hair in a plait who walked up this time, fitting the hat a bit better than the previous girl.

“HUFFLEPUFF!” The sorting hat cried out once more and Susan rushed to join the same table, sitting opposite Hannah.

“Boot, Terry!”

It was the boy with the square glasses and brown hair who headed out next, and he’d only been under the hat for a few moments before it made its decision.

“RAVENCLAW!”

The Ravenclaw table, which was the other innermost table on Harry’s left, was more dignified in its response than the other two houses yet still very loud, clapping and gesturing for the boy to join him. When he did he quickly got swept up having to give handshakes.

“Bragge, Helena!” Had come next and after a good few minutes of waiting found herself joining—

“GRYFFINDOR!”

Brocklehurst, Mandy came next, becoming the next Ravenclaw and she was followed by another Gryffindor in Brown, Lavender, who the Weasley twins started catcalling for.

“Bulstrode, Millicent!” however had become the first—

“SLYTHERIN!” Causing the furthermost table on Harry’s left to cheer, inviting her over. Harry frowned a tad when he looked at them, most of them weren’t as fortunate as Daphne or admittedly Draco in their looks. Pureblood in-breeding he was certain, having read it was a badly kept secret in the wizarding world.

Buttons, Olivia became yet another Hufflepuff, followed by Corner, Michael and Cornfoot, Stephen as Ravenclaws. Crabbe, Vincent was called and one of Malfoys bodyguard went up, being placed into Slytherin after a minute of debate from the hat and he’d been followed immediately by another Slytherin in Davis, Tracey who looked less mean than most of her house, being just an ordinary looking girl with brown hair in a bob cut, being held up by a headband.

As Dunbar, Fey was sorted into Gryffindor, Harry finally noticed another small nervous habit Hermione had. A much harder to notice one than her muttering if you weren’t paying distinct attention to her. She’d begun very quietly stamping her feet on the floor, trying to get the nerves out. Harry couldn’t blame her, the ‘test’ clearly wasn’t anything difficult but being put on display in front of so many people couldn’t be fun. He grabbed her hand and gave it a quick squeeze to reassure her. She shot him a grateful smile. (“Entwhistle, Kevin!” “RAVENCLAW!”)

He let his own mind wander as Justin Finch-Fletchley became another Hufflepuff. He was starting to understand slightly why there might be some friction between the houses other than people being competitive, though certainly the houses competing in a yearly tournament likely didn’t help. (“Finnegan, Seamus!” “GRYFFINDOR!”). After all, they were told these were the traits the founders valued, so even though it had never been said Harry couldn’t help but wonder if people assumed that meant they thought all members of a house were the same way. That all Gryffindors would value bravery above all, not just have it as a trait, and likewise with traits for the other houses. He could see how some people might not see the appeal then if they found certain traits undesirable, though Harry didn’t see anything wrong with the traits of all of the houses, himself. (“Goldstein, Anthony!” “RAVENCLAW!”)

Harry’s thoughts turned once more to what house he might be about to end up in as Goyle, Gregory hopped onto the stool. He knew his parents were in Gryffindor but was that truly right for him? Of course, he’d be so happy to share a house with them but the past wouldn’t affect him as much as the future would, and if Gryffindor was not the right house to nurture him… Well, he couldn’t really decide which house he’d prefer to be in. They all had their own appeal, even if he wasn’t entirely keen on having to sit near Crabbe, nor Goyle who just got sorted into Slytherin as well. And considering they were on the G names…

“Granger, Hermione!” McGonagall called, eyes darting to the girl who quickly strode over with more quiet confidence than she probably realized, putting on a brave face as the hat dropped atop her. Harry smiled, waiting. No matter where she went, she’d have his support, whether that was in Ravenclaw, Slytherin, Hufflepuff or-

“GRYFFINDOR!”

The hollers from the Gryffindor table were once again eardrum bursting levels of loud as Hermione rushed over to join them, beaming with pride. Harry shot her a massive smile and a thumbs up which she returned and the twins, especially were cheering like crazy, though most people looked at them confused not understanding why.

“They’re going to freak out when they find out.” Harry heard Ron laugh quietly under his breath, referring to the Gryffindors. Harry, despite still being very confused about his fame, felt his lips twitch at that. He had to admit imagining the shocked faces  _ was _ kind of funny.

“Greengrass, Daphne!”

And following on immediately from Hermione was Daphne. Harry watched on intently, very curious about the girl’s sorting. It wasn’t a fast one at all, she sat there for perhaps a good five minutes, a hand idly clutching at the stool.

Everyone seemed to lean in the longer It took, eagerly awaiting the result of a long sorting. Finally, the hat opened its torn mouth again. “SLYTHERIN!”

Daphne took the hat off and beamed as she headed to the table, however, anyone who truly paid attention would notice before the happy smile her eyes had darted between Hermione at the Gryffindor table and Harry in the crowd and for the briefest seconds, there had been a sad and apologetic look in her eyes before she walked off, being taken in by the Slytherins. Harry couldn’t help but notice she didn’t seem as eager as the others to meet her housemates.

After that, Harry let his mind wander again as Hopkins, Wayne became yet another Hufflepuff, as did Jones, Megan. He had an extra point to Slytherin now with Daphne being there, but his sister was in Gryffindor just as his parents had been. That was a lot to tip the scales in favour of wanting to join the house, though he couldn’t deny it was mostly because he could be with his sister that way. (“Li, Su!” “RAVENCLAW!”)

The round-faced boy went up next when “Longbottom, Neville!” was called out. He was another one who took some time to sort, though not as long as Daphne did. Despite his nervous quaking and the fact he looked like a butterfly could frighten him into running for his life at the moment, the hat made it’s choice quite clear with its loud voice. “GRYFFINDOR!”

Something in the boy visibly relaxed when that was called as he rushed off to the table. In fact, it relaxed him too much as he forgot he was still wearing the hat and had to come jogging back with a crimson face to give the hat back. Harry could have sworn he saw the corner of McGonagall’s lips twitch into a very brief amused smile.

After that came Macdougal, Morag (“RAVENCLAW!”) and Macmillan, Ernie (“HUFFLEPUFF!”) before another recognizable face went up. It wasn’t recognizable for good reasons, however.

“Malfoy, Draco!”

Draco sauntered over with a smug look on his face, one which only grew when the hat had barely been on his head for a total of three seconds before it bellowed out “SLYTHERIN!” with conviction.

He was followed by another Slytherin in Parkinson, Pansy who immediately followed the pale boy and sat beside him. Harry had to resist the urge to laugh when he saw Draco try to slide away only to slide right into the ghost at the Slytherin table (one covered in blood it would seem), making him shudder violently.

Two twin girls sharing the name Patil had gone up next and had been split up, with Padma going to Ravenclaw and Parvati going to Gryffindor. Once Parvati sat down, the hall turned back and McGonagall had clearly paused for a moment.

If one looked closely, she was clearly bracing, and Harry knew in that moment who was next.

“Potter-Granger, Harry!”

In an instant, a hush fell over the room as whispering broke out all around as Harry slowly approached the hat.

“Potter?  _ The _ Harry Potter?!”

“She said Potter-Granger? Maybe it’s a coincidence- no, he has the scar, I can see it!”

“It is Harry Potter! Why is his name different?”

“Hey, wasn’t that Hermione girl called Granger as well?!”

For a brief moment, all eyes turned to Hermione just as Harry sat down, making the girl go red. The twins seemed to see this as their chance and said, in a whisper that still seemed to echo around the hall. “We got Potter’s sister!”

The effect was instantaneous. Shocked gasps and widened eyes all around, eyebrows shooting well above hairlines and people looking ready to faint with shock.

“Harry Potter has a sister now?!”

“The Granger family must have adopted him! Who are the Grangers though?”

“Don’t sound like any purebloods I know…”

“Maybe he was raised with muggles?”

“The Harry Potter, raised by muggles?! Don’t be daft—“

“Silence!” McGonagall shouted, before nodding for Harry to put the hat on. He sighed in relief that she had quickly gotten the hall under control and put the hat on his head. It fell down his eyes and he was met with blackness as his vision was obscured.

Then a small voice appeared in his ear. “Oh I have been waiting a long while to sort you, young man… but so curious, this is. I knew you’d been coming and though I knew never to assume for sure where a student will go, I had been so confident… ah, but never mind that. You are a difficult young man. Difficult in a way I have not had to contend with in a long time…”

Harry gulped. Was that bad?

“Not at all, in fact, it speaks to your character in quite a positive way, for I cannot distinguish for sure where you should go. Even more curiously and much more amazingly, I cannot determine where you should not go, which is a rare sight indeed. You possess a brave heart and the will to do what is right, yet Godric’s house does not smother what else I see. A thirst to learn worthy of any Ravenclaw, a desire to be the best there can be with the talents you have and oh my, what talents they are Mister Potter. Yet again, you also display quite clearly the will to put in the hard work, a soul that requires justice to be dealt fairly. Perhaps not the most patient when it comes to your family yet you show promise to mature. You even show a clear willingness to play dirty, to cheat even, when it is the best course of action to take. When you find yourself confronted with the need to achieve your goals being far more important than fair play, you show a cunning side especially within how you think. You even show a grand amount of ambition, for I can see you picture quite the potential future. It is rare to see someone with a desire to become powerful, who is so ambitious and Slytherin-like, who does not show any ill will in how they wish to use it.”

Harry hadn’t noticed how hard he’d begun to grip the stool as the hat gave its monologue to him. What did this mean? He had traits of all four houses?

“Yes, you do. Quite a lot in fact, that makes it difficult to decide which is the right path to choose…”

‘But, isn’t everyone this complicated to some degree? Shouldn’t they have all sorts of traits?’

“Indeed they do, young wizard. Many show signs of being suited to two and sometimes even three houses, like some of the witches and wizards who preceded you a few mere moments ago. Rarely though do they show they may be suited to all four houses, it is something that only happened once in the founder’s time and it caused quite a riot amongst them.” The voice said in its croaky voice, clearly thoughtful. “Yes indeed, you could go to any of the houses.” 

Harry’s heart gave a sudden jump. Would the hat let him choose a house then?

“You would ask for Gryffindor to join your sister, wouldn’t you?” Harry nodded sheepishly. “Yes, I had foreseen that as I sorted her. Had you come before her I’d have asked you to stand aside so I could sort her first before coming back to you. Perhaps then I might even have already sorted you into the house of Godric, yet I must pause for thought. You must understand, young wizard, you contain an equal part of the four houses within you. No single one outshines the rest, though that does not mean you do not possess them all and in good measure. A few have come before you, but they had some traits that helped me realize quickly and in a timely fashion some houses would not suit them but you young man… I can foresee you excelling no matter where I put you. The question is how?”

‘How?’

“On one path, I see a future warrior, respected fiercely even by the most powerful witches and wizards. Another, I see a leader who will help all with a crafty side to ensure that foul play will never happen under his domain. Yet in another, I see a wise healer who might come forth… and these are mere simple possibilities of thousands, far beyond what I see when I am usually placed on a student’s head, and that is no small feat to manage.”

Harry could hear whispering from the students all around. How long had he been under here now? The hat had gone silent after its last statement and hadn’t spoken again in quite a while.

It had to have been at least ten minutes since he’d first put the hat on…

He was startled when it spoke up again.

“I have made up my mind and I may only hope my choices are right. Your loyalty to your sister is admirable and speaks to your relationship, it is a strong bond but I sense a single weakness.” Harry felt confused. “You latched onto her at a young age and you never truly bonded with another outside your family since then. No… I see a future, Mister Potter. I see a future that may perhaps be the best thing that could ever happen to Hogwarts since the founders themselves fell apart, but this future will rest on your shoulders and your development.”

‘What future?’

“I am afraid I should not say, I do not wish to alter the course by accident. However, for it, you must excel in areas beyond magic. Areas you will never begin to move on from if you are forced to be stuck to your sister all the time. No, Gryffindor is not the place for you. Nor will you be able to do this work if you are suffering from a negative view from those around you and to be surrounded by books would be to waste your practical talents. No, Mister Potter, for the best future I can foresee you bringing for us all, it had better be…”

There was a tense moment of silence.

“ **HUFFLEPUFF!** ”

The hat was taken off Harry’s head and instead of being met with the usual applause or cheers, he was met with silence. Not a bad silence, merely a stunned one, as everyone looked at him in shock. He could see there was not a single set of eyes that hadn’t gone wide unless that weren’t first years.

Then, as what just happened clicked into place for them, the Hufflepuff table went wild, cheering intensely and stamping their feet in delight, while the other houses began to applaud lightly, still stunned at what just occurred.

Harry hurried to his table, finding a seat beside the very first Hufflepuff who had been sorted, Hannah Abbot, shaking hands with a few people who welcomed him over.

“Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!” A tall, handsome third year with grey eyes said with a grin, shaking Harry’s hand. “Cedric Diggory. Welcome to Hufflepuff, Potter!”

“Harry, please.” He said shyly. “I prefer Potter-Granger and I know that’s a mouthful.”

The others around them nodded their understanding before turning their attention back to the ceremony for the moment out of politeness. Harry himself briefly exchanged a somewhat sad smile with Hermione, who looked a bit disappointed herself. They had hoped to be in the same house but it seemed that was not to be, though both knew they wouldn’t let this stop them from spending as much time together as they could outside of classes.

Harry turned his gaze back to the front, it was still quiet. It took McGonagall a moment to recover, she had actually been gaping. It was quite surprising to see the usually stern-looking witch look so surprised before she composed herself.

Behind her, a very short professor was climbing back into his chair. The headmaster himself—who Harry was admittedly pleased to see—looked like he’d just been told the sky had turned to chocolate pudding, while next to him, a small squat witch with short wavy grey hair was positively beaming at this turn of events. Her smile somehow grew wider when the next student, Rivers, Juliet, also became a Hufflepuff. Silverberry, Jeremiah followed her becoming a Slytherin, as did Stagheart, Azolia who came after him.

The black boy from the entrance hall had come up after that, responding to Thomas, Dean and being sorted into Gryffindor. Turner, Jason was the last Hufflepuff and Turpin, Lisa followed as the last Ravenclaw to be sorted.

“Weasley, Ronald!”

Ron walked up, sitting down and wearing the hat for only a brief few moments before the hat had roared that he should be: “GRYFFINDOR!”

Ron had taken the hat off and immediately rushed to the table, sliding in between Hermione and one of the twins. Harry gave him a nod and a grin which he returned. He’d gotten the house he wanted.

The only student left walked up as “Zabini, Blaise!” was called out and he was very quickly sorted into “SLYTHERIN!”

With that, the boy ran off to join his fellow Slytherins while McGonagall rolled up her scroll and took the stool and hat away. Harry took this moment to actually inspect the table up above now that there was nothing else to focus on.

Hagrid had joined when Harry hadn’t been looking and was quite noticeable as the tallest amongst the staff, sitting at one end of the table. The squat witch Harry had seen before seemed to be beaming as bright as the sun now while the very short wizard from before seemed to be chuckling away to himself about something. The headmaster himself Harry only just noticed was not on a normal chair but one made of gold, like a throne. He briefly met Harry’s eyes and the boy could swear he saw a twinkle in them before the man stood up, managing to instantly garner everyone’s attention.

“Welcome, welcome everyone. Nothing makes me quite as happy as to see this school filled up with so many bright and promising young wizards and witches.” He smiled kindly, in a grandfatherly fashion. “Before we begin our feast, I would first just like to say a few quick words. Here they are; Nitwit, Oddment, Blubber, Tweak! Thank you, now you may eat.”

Harry blinked. The man hadn’t gotten any less bizarre then. Here Harry had been wondering if he’d just imagined the old wizard’s eccentricity as a child but clearly not.

He turned his attention back to the table as did many of the other students and the first years all gasped as they realized the term feast was certainly correct, all sorts of food appearing before them out of thin air. Pretty much every kind of food Harry could think of being a commonplace dish in the U.K. was sat upon the table, just waiting to be devoured from roast beef to bacon and steak and from Yorkshire pudding to lamb chops!

Harry would have drooled if he didn’t have better table manners than that, the settled feeling he’d had in his stomach since the sweets earlier quickly disappearing. Everyone moved to eat as the headmaster sat down and soon enough conversations began erupting all around, though, Harry was well aware there were more eyes on him than just those he might be talking to.

Personally, though, he elected to focus on getting to know the people in his year he’d be spending the year with, starting with the girl beside him, who had made the first move.

“I’m Hannah Abbot!” she’d introduced herself cheerfully. “Nice to meet you.”

“Harry Potter-Granger, nice to meet you too.” He replied back a tad nervously, but as there was no point in hiding his second name with it so loudly announced by Professor McGonagall, he pressed on. “That must have been a bit nerve-wracking, being the first one called up.”

“Oh, it really was!” She nodded fervently, shuddering slightly. “Even when we knew we just had to put it on I was still worried it would quiz us somehow or something when it put it on, I could barely think straight even without a patchy old hat rooting around my brain! But it must have been worse for you after a bit, I mean you were under there for a good twenty minutes at least, it felt like!”

“The hat made it pretty clear early on it was because it felt I fit too easily into multiple of the houses so it had a hard time deciding,” Harry explained honestly with a small frown. “So all in all it wasn’t that worrying, though it was still really embarrassing sitting there so long knowing so many people were watching. Twenty minutes?”

“Well, it was more like thirteen but it sure felt like longer,” Cedric Diggory interjected, garnering the two new Hufflepuffs attention. “Mind you there’s a long sorting every year or two, though I think that might be a record for longest sorting in the past few decades. Good thing you got the best house, eh?”

Harry laughed at that, especially with the comical wink Diggory threw his way, though Harry couldn’t help but wonder… He decided not to mention what the hat told him about his potential. He couldn’t help but wonder though, just what did the hat want from him in the future?

“It does seem to have some of the best qualities of the houses.” A curly-haired first year boy with a slightly pompous yet not unapproachable tone spoke. “I was hoping for it when I found out about the houses last summer. I’m muggleborn so I’ve not had much time to think on it. Justin Finch-Fletchley, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Harry said, and Hannah repeated, both nodding to the boy with small smiles, before Harry chuckled. “Another double-barrelled name then.”

“Yes, my mother insisted to my father she wouldn’t lose her Finch name but father was determined to keep his own as well so they decided a compromise was best,” He explained before he looked up. “However I’ve seen a few books mention you, and they never said you had a double-barrelled name.”

“My parents gave me the option when I was adopted,” Harry explained quickly, uncomfortably aware of more people listening in immediately. He decided to keep the story brief. “The first place I was sent to was discovered to be a lot worse than it first appeared and it was the Grangers who got me out of there. They even visited me in hospital when I got hurt and after a while, well Hermiome—she’s the girl with the bushy hair at the Gryffindor table if you missed all the staring earlier—she became like a sister to me. It just made sense, though I didn’t want to lose my birth name either. It felt wrong to disregard my birth parents like that.”

“So you’ve grown up muggle then? Like me and Justin?” A boy with shaggy black hair more tangled and messy than Harry’s asked. Harry recognized him as the boy who had responded to Turner, Jason. Harry nodded and a stout looking boy with blondish hair went wide-eyed.

“Blimey! You, Harry Potter, knew nothing about the wizarding world?!” He asked in shock. Harry blinked. “Oh uh, Ernie Macmillan. Sorry for butting in, it’s just a shock! So many books claimed you to know so much.”

“Well, then those books are telling a load of old rubbish.” Harry quickly assured, now slightly grateful the attention was on him if only to put to rest the one thing that had been bugging him since he’d begun reading books regarding events in the wizarding world.

And that was the fantastical, over-exaggerated, bizarre and in Harry’s opinion, downright stupid claims about him. Even in the wizarding world, he highly doubted a one-year-old infant possessed the mental capacity to understand the dark arts to the same degree as a dark lord and vanquish him. Whoever wrote Harry ‘picked up his mother’s wand and rose it to You-Know-Who in defense’ deserved a quick and hard slap in the telekinetic’s opinion.

“I didn’t know anything about magic until I was seven. I knew I wasn’t entirely normal by muggle standards, I noticed I could do things muggles couldn’t, but I never thought about it.” He answered honestly, keeping the ‘things he could do’ as vague as possible. Several people seemed to have given up the pretense of hiding their eavesdropping and were now staring at him. “When I moved in with the Grangers though, about a week or two after I’d settled in with them, I can’t remember exactly, Dumbledore showed up.”

“Dumbledore?! The headmaster himself showed up!?” Cedric asked, leaning in curious at that.

“Well, I don’t know why it was him but yeah. He just said someone needed to explain magic to them and that’s when I first found out about…” He trailed off, but those who knew immediately understood. He felt a small hand pat him on the arm, which he thought must have been Hannah which he was grateful for. “Anyways, he warned me about fame, showed off a very small amount of magic, announced my sister was muggleborn then disappeared. Wasn’t until this summer we really started learning about the world. This time about three months ago, all I knew about the wizarding world was Albus Dumbledore existed, there’s a spell to float and summon items and conjure water, a spell to turn water to tea, and that there’s some whole blood supremacy nonsense that got my parents killed. Oh, and almost forgot Voldemort.”

Harry visibly rolled his eyes at the comically shocked gasps. Amongst the mutters of ‘is he nuts’ and ‘he said the name’, he saw them all staring wide-eyed. He raised a brow as if challenging someone to tell him he’d done wrong. When no one did, he decided to nip this in the bud now.

“I didn’t grow up with the name being taboo, nor do I particularly care that it is anyways. I refuse to give it to him and even if I were going to be beaten down, saying You-Know-Who is just unwieldy and begging for misunderstandings.” He said, before chuckling dryly despite himself. “’You-Know-Who is talking with the teenagers again!’ ‘What? No not Voldemort, Jessica!’”

There were a few nervous chuckles at that though everyone still gave him odd looks and some looked sick at the thought of Voldemort being near the school.

“You’re really brave, then.” Hannah Abbot muttered only for Harry to shake his head.

“No, I’m just not interested in letting the fear of the past control the future,” Harry said. He wondered if the impressed looks he was getting would be much less impressed if they knew he stole that quote directly from Harry and Hermione’s Lion and Snake book series. Harry chuckled under his breath as he realized now they just needed some sort of spin-off badger and raven series and they’d have a whole Hogwarts set.

“Well, you aren’t what I was expecting but I like you, Potter.” Ernie chuckled. Harry gave a small smile.

“Just Harry’s fine. I got a double-barrelled second name because I didn’t want to choose between my parents and I know everyone here’s just going to call me Potter only if I leave it on second names.” He said shyly. Hannah let out a hum, before cooling slightly which Harry wasn’t sure he liked.

“Aww, so you’d feel bad if one set of parents were being honoured but the others weren’t?” She figured it out quickly. Harry nodded, she’d hit the nail on the head.

“Exactly, my birth parents died for me but since they took me on as their own son, even with Hermione… mum and dad have lived for me as much as they have Hermione and that’s… something I’ll never be able to thank them enough for.” He sighed wistfully. Everyone seemed to understand what he was getting at though. One of the Hufflepuff prefects, an older girl who must have been a sixth year at least with flowing hair she’d dyed blue, let out a whistle.

“The Harry Potter, growing up with muggles… Weird to think. Oh, uh, Potter-Granger, sorry.” She muttered. Harry blushed.

“Thanks for the correction but there’s no _the_ Harry Potter about me. I don’t even remember what happened. I just… I got lucky to not die. It’s not a fun event to be reminded of.”

At that, everyone immediately looked bashful and like they wanted to kick themselves as quiet apologies went around. Preferring to move on instead, he tried to guide the table in a better direction with his next words.

“What I  _ would _ like to do is get to know the house I’m going to be stuck with for the next seven years.” He chuckled, especially at the mock glares he got.

“Stuck with?” Hannah chuckled. “Oh dear, our plan to kidnap and indoctrinate you isn’t working!”

That got quite a few laughs and Harry shot her a big grin, thankful for it bringing the atmosphere at the table back to a friendly and fun one, as they continued to talk about all sorts from the differences between the muggleborn and pureblood lifestyles, how the half-bloods blended them, and things such as why Harry was keeping a good distance away from the roast beef. He decided not to ruin their appetites by telling them the truth—that he once had accidentally swallowed a spider that was crawling over it when he’d last had the dish.

Harry found quickly of the Hufflepuffs, he seemed to get along with Hannah the most, finding most of the talking he was doing aimed at her, with it just being coincidence others overheard and asked questions for him to respond to, though he did make sure to talk properly to his fellow first years when he had the chance.

Soon enough though he turned his attention to taking in the staff table once more to truly see who was up there. Aside from those he’d already seen, there was a strict looking woman with spiky grey hair and yellow hawk-like eyes, a woman wearing what looked like hospital robes, another strict looking woman wearing olive robes along with a pointed hat which bore astrological signs, a chubby witch with a twinkle in her eyes and a youthful look to her, and a very kind middle-aged looking woman came after that.

There was quite a mad looking wizard with grey hair after that who appeared to be missing an arm and a leg, grinning madly as he ate. He had a wild aura about him. To his left was a thin woman draped in shawls with thick glasses that made her eyes look ten times larger than they really were. There was yet another stern-looking witch beside her with fair skin and long, black hair.

Harry was starting to think Dumbledore took appearance into heavy (and perhaps hypocritical) consideration when hiring someone. After that was an empty chair which Cedric informed Harry was reserved for, if never used by, the caretaker of the castle, Argus Filch.

After that, there were only two teachers left. Quirrell himself, who looked as nervous as ever in the same blue robes he had worn in Diagon Alley, was looking around nervously. He now had a new fixture to his appearance though, with a purple turban he was wearing wrapped tight around his head; at his feet was an unopened cardboard box he seemed to be keeping his feet over as if scared someone would snatch it away from him.

He was talking to probably the meanest looking teacher of the staff, a man with all black robes and greasy long black hair and a hook nose. Said teacher turned as Harry looked over and his dark, empty, creepy eyes met Harry’s widening emerald orbs with a sudden glare, a clear disdain in his eyes. Harry quickly looked away, but something inside him churned violently. He didn’t feel good, he felt like he needed to run.

“You okay, Harry?” Hannah asked with a frown and he nodded, shaking his head to try to sort himself out. No one noticed the pink mist that had appeared briefly under the table, pouring off Harry’s own robes.

“Yeah, sorry. Just accidentally looked a teacher right in the eye and I don’t think they liked it.” He muttered. “Uh, Cedric? Whose that teacher up there? The one with the black robes.”

“Hm? Oh… That’s Professor Snape, he’s head of Slytherin house and the potions teacher. He’s… not the best teacher in this school to be perfectly honest.” Cedric told him, clearly trying not to look at the man. “Don’t worry about him, he’s horrible with all the students. Don’t be too bothered by it. Probably, he’s just mad cause he’s talking to Quirrell who got the job Snape’s been trying to get for years. It’s like that job’s cursed though…”

But Harry couldn’t stop worrying. He’d felt his magic rise up before but it always rose up to comfort him or make him feel better, heal him or make him feel, at risk of sounding a bit arrogant, powerful. 

He’d never once felt rise up as it did now, flooding every part of his being to tell him a simple instruction. ‘Run.’

But Harry couldn’t. Was he just being odd? Was it a normal reaction to the man and he was just being dramatic?

He looked at Dumbledore again and the feeling faded, though for a moment he could have sworn the headmaster was looking right at him. Maybe he was being worried for nothing… but his excitement he’d been feeling so long for potions class started a slow transformation into dread.

Harry kept a wary eye on the table as he assured Hannah and Ernie again that he was alright, but Snape never looked his way again.

Soon enough, the food all disappeared as everyone finally had enough and the headmaster rose from his seat once more, commanding everyone’s attention once again.“Now that we are all suitably fed and have drunk enough to keep from being parched, I have a few start of term announcements. First and foremost, a reminder to all first years and to certain upper years: the forbidden forest is, as the name suggests, still forbidden and should not be entered under any circumstances without a staff member.”

His eyes twinkled as he looked over to the staff table. He seemed to be staring right at the Weasley twins for a moment. “I have been asked by Mister Filch to remind you all that magic in the corridors between classes is not supposed to occur, at least not from a student’s wand. Those who wish to join the Quidditch teams, who are eligible to do so, should contact Madam Hooch. Trials will be held on the second week of term.”

He then looked around them all, turning more grave as he fixed them with a serious look.“Finally, I must inform all of you, the third floor corridor is out of bounds this year to everyone from the youngest first year to the oldest seventh year. No one is to enter it, lest they wish to encounter a most painful death.” He told them. There were a few laughs that quickly died at the realization he was not making some odd joke.

“He’s serious?” Hannah muttered, sounding very perturbed.

“Must be.” Cedric frowned deeply. “No idea why though, but Dumbledore doesn’t joke about that kind of thing. If he says it will kill you, it almost definitely will.”

“Definitely stay away from that floor then…” Susan Bones muttered, getting nods of agreement around her.

“Aside from that, I would like to remind you all that there is more magic than one can know in this castle. More magic than anyone can know in this world, even in the things we may first overlook or fail to value as much as we should. Magic is in every action, and every action can be charged with magic when it’s done with the right intention. There is magic in this world beyond what we wave wands, inscribe runes, and brew potions for. Family, friends, nature—“ His eyes seemed to dart to Harry for a moment. “—Love. There are so many kinds of magic, and I ask you all to remember them when you’re within these walls. Speaking of, what do you say we indulge in the magic of music and sing the school song?”

He smiled cheerfully as many others had their smiles become very fixed who knew what was coming. Dumbledore told everyone to pick a tune as he waved his wand and golden lyrics formed in the air above him for them all to follow along.

There was a cacophony of noise of badly blending tunes and voices, from those trying to get it over with as quickly as possible to those like the twins having fun with it and taking their time with a funeral match. Harry decided to spare the hall his atrocious voice for all their sakes and remained quiet.

“Truly, there is no magic quite like music.” Dumbledore smiled serenely when the last of the singers finished, before clapping his hands together. “Right then, everyone should head off to bed. Prefects, be sure to make sure the first years know the ways into their common rooms!”

The blue-haired prefect from before quickly got Harry, Hannah, and the other first years into formation behind her a few moments later, leading them out of the hall. Some groups went up the stairs but the Hufflepuffs and, Harry noticed, the Slytherins were the ones who headed down the stairs instead of up.

As the Slytherins were led away, for a brief moment, Harry caught Daphne’s eye again, managing to send her a subtle wave he thought she returned, though he wasn’t sure.

Soon enough, the Hufflepuffs found themselves in an area that seemed like it was leading to a kitchen based on some of the items scattered about. They were directed to a nook on the right-hand side of the kitchen corridor and came up to a collection of barrels.

“Alright, listen up first years. Here’s how you get in,” The prefect spoke up, walking up to the barrel two up from the bottom, in the middle of the second row. “To get in you find this barrel and you tap it in the rhythm of Helga Hufflepuff.”

Everyone blinked in confusion at that, making the prefect chuckle before turning to the barrel; “Helga” she knocked it twice with long knocks, “Hufflepuff!” followed by three very quick knocks. The lid flung itself open. “You then crawl in. Don’t worry about the size or about it tipping over, it’s magically stuck to the ground, you’ll come out the right way up and the entrance is a lot bigger than it first looks. Make sure you keep that tune in mind, if you knock the wrong one or go for the wrong barrel you’re getting a face full of vinegar instead.”

At that, Harry instantly began committing everything he learned to his memory as much as possible. They all followed the prefect in, Harry being the brave soul who risked potentially falling on his face first. When he climbed in however he felt himself fall for only a moment before he was magically righted and landed on his feet. He looked behind himself and saw a massive round wooden door behind him. He let out a hearty chuckle as Hannah followed him and he watched her land on her feet gracefully despite the fact she’d never done it before, clearly aided by magic. “Brilliant!”

“It really is.” The prefect chuckled behind him, waiting for everyone else to arrive, once they did she clapped her hands and gave them a moment to look around. It was an incredibly cozy room, decorated with pretty plants and with a calming smell in the air from the leaves that made one feel as though they were within a garden with many particularly nice smelling plants.

A fire crackled away in a small round stone fireplace. The room was also round and earthy and the ceiling hung low. There were brass and copper fixtures all around as well as two overstuffed sofas and a comfy-looking armchair, all upholstered in black and yellow, just waiting for someone to sit on them.

The prefect pointed at two sets of doors behind herself. “The one on the left will take you into the girls dorms, while the one on the right will take you to the boys dorms. It will know which dorms you are trying to enter so long as you think clearly about them when you grab the handle. For example, when Macmillan walks into the dorms, he will think ‘my dorm’ to get in, and the others can join by thinking the same or thinking ‘Macmillan’s room’ and so on and so forth. Just make sure you have a clear thought like that in mind and there will be no trouble, so long as you are well behaved.” She told them, turning slightly stern. “If you try to enter the other gender’s dorm room with less than pure intentions, I recommend bracing yourself for a painful crash against the floor because the doors won’t let you in. Any questions?”

Everyone shook their heads, understanding just fine. The prefect went back to a cheerful smile.

“In that case, sit down for now. Everyone else will have gone to bed but Professor Sprout prefers to meet her new badgers first as soon as possible.” She informed, and as if on cue, the massive door opened and Professor Sprout herself, who turned out to be the squat witch who had been beaming madly at the feast, came tumbling in. It was quite the sight to watch with her, and she was clearly very practiced in her landing, already striding forward by the time her feet touched the floor.

“Ah, here we go! It’s so good to see a nice amount of new Hufflepuffs, does my heart good! I am Professor Pomona Sprout, Herbology teacher and your head of house.” She smiled very kindly at each of them, taking them all in. She only lingered for a brief second on Harry, much to his relief. “Now, I understand you’ll likely all want to get to bed so I won’t keep you too long but I wanted to tell you all that as your head of house, I am responsible for you and your time here. If you have any problems, any at all, you  _ can _ come to me and I will do everything in my power to help you. No need to be embarrassed if you start feeling homesick, I well remember I couldn’t stop crying in my own first year for the first week.”

She fixed them all with an understanding gaze and she gave off a sort of aura that to Harry at least, just made you feel comfortable and safe.

“Firstly, your timetables. Before I give them to you, I need to sort out groups though, so if I call your name, please come over to this side of the room.” She told them, pulling out one stack of papers and quickly thumbing through them. “Megan Jones, Jason Turner, Olivia Buttons, Wayne Hopkins, Juliet Rivers.”

Several people Harry didn’t recognize hurried forward and were each given a sheet from the stack of paper, before the professor gave the remaining students paper from a different stack she seemed to produce out of nowhere. Once Harry had his he realized it was a timetable which had ‘FIRST YEAR – GROUP ONE!’ emblazoned boldly atop the page.

First Year – Group One!  
  
---  
  
Period

| 

Monday

| 

Tuesday

| 

Wednesday

| 

Thursday

| 

Friday  
  
First

| 

Magical Theory/

Charms

| 

Defense Against the Dark Arts

| 

Herbology

| 

Charms

| 

Potions  
  
Second

| 

Charms

| 

Charms

| 

Herbology

| 

Transfiguration

| 

Potions  
  
Lunch  
  
Third

| 

History of

Magic

| 

History of Magic

| 

Defence

Against the

Dark Arts

| 

Transfiguration

| 

[Free]  
  
Fourth

| 

Herbology

| 

[Free]

| 

Defence

Against the

Dark Arts

| 

Flying Lessons

| 

[Free]  
  
Free time  
  
Midnight

| 

[Free]

| 

[Free]

| 

Astronomy

| 

[Free]

| 

[Free]  
  
Harry kept a tight grip on his timetable to be sure he wouldn’t lose it as all eyes turned back to their head of house, who had begun to speak again.

“Now, due to… past incidents, your year group is perhaps the smallest Hogwarts has ever seen. As a result, we felt a change would be necessary to be certain we would have decently sized classes. So we set up two groups from the first years who will learn, containing twenty students each. Quite by coincidence, this is five students from each house in each group. You will find out who will be in your group from other houses when you go to class tomorrow.” She explained, eyes scanning over them all. “If you don’t have any questions, you may go to bed now. Do try to be awake by seven in the morning though, as the prefects will be showing you where each of your classes are being held at that time. If you have siblings in other houses, please follow me to the corner, if you have questions but no sibling, please wait on the couch.”

No one waited, everyone satisfied with what they were told so the only ones who approached the head of house were Harry and a brown haired girl Harry believed to be Juliet Rivers. She looked up with a smile.

“Ah yes, Miss Rivers, I believe you have a fifth year sister in Ravenclaw?” She asked the girl first, who nodded. The professor then turned to Harry, surprising him when she didn’t just call him Potter. “Mister Potter-Granger, your sister was sorted into Gryffindor earlier, yes?”

“Yes Ma’am.” Harry nodded, and the professor stood tall, regarding her students kindly.

“Well then, both of you should know that you are in fact allowed to sit at the other house tables during breakfast, so if you want to join them at any time feel free. The only exception to this is during school feasts, although for certain feasts exceptions may be made…” She gave Harry a sad look at this and he suddenly had a feeling there would be a Halloween feast in the future. “I must also ask you to try to stay at your own table, at least for the first week. Try to get to know your fellow Hufflepuffs first and get used to your place in the castle. Understood?”

Both nodded and she beamed, before pulling the Rivers girl aside for a moment, telling her something privately so Harry wouldn’t hear before sending her off to bed. Then she turned to Harry, who was the only one left in the common room now.

“Now then Mister Potter, I must ask that you do not abuse this knowledge I’m about to give you, for I am only giving it to you in case of emergencies or if your sister has an urgent need of you for some other reason.” She told him seriously and Harry straightened up, not wanting to disappoint her. Not just because she was his head of house but because she seemed like a very kind woman and he would feel bad if he upset her. “The common room for the Gryffindors is located behind the portrait of The Fat Lady, up in Gryffindor Tower. The password this year is ‘Caput Draconis’. Do you promise you won’t abuse this knowledge for ill intent?”

“I promise, professor.” He said seriously nodding. Her stern looked softened and she smiled.

“I am glad to hear it then. I must say, I was very surprised to hear you’d be joining my house, Harry. I remember both your parents.” She smiled, which only grew as Harry’s head perked up. “I know what you’ll ask, and I promise if you ask later I’ll tell you a bit about them. For now though, it's late so I’ll just say I really thought you’d be a Gryffindor, but I promise I’ll make sure you thrive just as well here, okay?”

“Okay.” Harry nodded, smiling despite himself as she waved him off to go to bed. “Thank you, professor.”

“It’s no trouble dear. Oh and Harry?” She spoke up, getting the boy to stop and look back. “Like I told the others, if you need anything at all, just approach me about it. Even if it’s just the pressure of so many people knowing you getting to you, it’s what I’m here for, alright?”

“Alright.” Harry’s smile grew, knowing for sure he’d gotten one of the good teachers as he walked up to his dorm. “Goodnight, Professor Sprout.”

“Goodnight, Harry,” came the soft voice from behind him, as he stepped into his own dorms. He found five four-poster beds lined up and the other students all already asleep or trying to sleep. Not wanting to disturb them, Harry went to the last bed still unclaimed, where he noticed his stuff was already waiting for him, sitting down. He placed his timetable on the small end table next to him and pulled off his glasses, laying down with a sigh.

He was finally at Hogwarts. With that happy thought, he drifted into sleep.

…..

…..

…..

…..

_ “He’s here! My charge, he’s here! It’s-“ _

Harry woke with a start, jolting up. He vaguely caught the glimpse of something pink in the corner of his vision but when he turned to look nothing was there. Looking around, he realized it was still the middle of the night.

“Probably just a bad dream…” He muttered to himself breathlessly, putting his head back down to his pillow. He soon drifted off once more, blissfully unaware of the pink mist that covered the top of him like a protective shield.

He didn’t dream again for the rest of the night.

  
  



	11. Friendships and Classes; Beginnings

Despite being the last to fall asleep on the night of the welcoming feast, Harry had been the second of the Hufflepuff boys to wake up the next morning. The only one who had woken up before him had been Wayne Hopkins who apparently grew up on a muggle farm and was used to waking up as early as half five in the morning.

Harry himself had woken up at half past six and had taken the spare time awake to do some quick last minute reading on the classes he had today. He couldn’t help but chuckle knowing his sister would approve.

Of course, unlike her, Harry actually needed the quick brush up. Hermione may have been a natural genius (at least in his opinion) but Harry had to work hard to keep up with her constantly, being nowhere near as naturally inclined to the academic path as she was.

Shaking his head, he focused on the first chapter of the Standard Book of Spells as surely that was where they would start, his bet being on either the spell to create sparks or the wand lighting spell, as they seemed to be the most basic and simple spells in the entire book.

Soon enough, he was finally getting bored with reading the book a second time, having just finished reading the first chapter of both his Herbology and History of Magic books. He wondered if Magical Theory was its own class or if it was just an extra thing taught in Charms to First Years only.

Based on his timetable, he assumed the latter, as it was only held on the very first period of a Monday and was paired with Charms in the same period.

He’d just been considering one of his old quizzes with his sister when everyone else had finally woken up in time for seven o’clock and had all gone out to find the prefect, a blonde haired sixth year who was quite quick and efficient in showing them around.

He showed them the main route to each class each of them had as well as telling them exactly which nearby rooms were which so they’d know for the future. He helped them time the steps to know when and where they were supposed to climb on to get to certain areas—he caught Jason Turner just in time when said boy was about to plunge his foot straight through a trick step—and finally, he’d shown them the ‘unofficial’ routes of a select few secret passageways they could make use of if they were running late to get to certain floors faster.

By the time they were done, it was nearing eight o’clock and they headed down to the Great Hall for breakfast, although the walk there wasn’t uneventful. As they’d gotten near the bottom of the steps they’d heard a loud clattering sound followed by the very annoyed voice of McGonagall shouting “PEEVES!”

Harry would be a liar if he said watching the usually composed woman chasing after the flying form of an outlandishly clothed man with black hair and a mad cackle wasn’t amusing. The prefect looked a tad more exasperated than his first year charges, however.

“That was Peeves the Poltergeist. He might seem funny from this perspective but trust me, you won’t find him so fun once you end up on his radar. He doesn’t help anyone but himself and just causes havoc everywhere.” The prefect sighed, opening up the door to the Great Hall. They followed the older student inside and Harry’s eyes briefly went over to the Gryffindor table where he saw Hermione already sitting with the round-faced Neville Longbottom, as well as Ron.

Harry sat down once he saw his other housemates doing the same and felt his stomach growl when he realized Hogwarts didn’t skip out on food even when a feast wasn’t going on. Plates upon plates of different and delicious looking breakfasts just waiting to be eaten on the tables.

He gladly scooped up some mashed potatoes, some sausages, and a strip of bacon and started eating, looking over to see his sister had finally noticed him. Both smiled at each other and Hermione fondly rolled her eyes at her brother’s large breakfast while she herself was only having cereal by the looks of things.

Harry swallowed and looked around, curious what else there was to see in the Great Hall during the morning. He noticed Ron seemed too distracted with his own massive helping of food to notice anything else, Harry’s dish looking like a rat’s dinner next to Ron’s plate. It seemed all the teachers joined the students up at the high table even if not all of them were eating. Hannah just a few seats down from Harry smiled when she caught him staring and waved making him nod back politely.

His eyes briefly glazed over the Ravenclaw table where some form of debate seemed to be going on regarding their breakfast that Terry Boot seemed to have started and finally, Harry’s eyes landed on Slytherin’s table. Based on some of the glares from the few who noticed, he had a feeling his gaze wasn’t welcome so he was quick as he could be, looking out for Daphne. He spotted her at the same time she looked up and…

She looked away, acting as if she hadn’t seen him even though she must have. Harry frowned and though he kept his gaze on the table for a few moments more, hoping he was just imagining the slight, she didn’t look his way again while his gaze was on her.

With a frown, he turned back and met Hermione’s gaze, who looked confused with a frown of her own. So it wasn’t just him who saw it...

An odd sound like some kind of muffled siren rang through the air eventually about five minutes after Harry finished his plate and the older students began to rise, encouraging the younger students to do the same. It was the alarm for their first period beginning in ten minutes.

Harry fell into step with Hannah on the way to their Charms class, knowing she had the same time table as him. They made idle chit chat along the way about what they thought it was going to be like or what they were expecting to do, as well as discussing who their teacher might be when they finally arrived and walked into the classroom along with Justin and Ernie who had been a few paces behind them.

Harry’s eyes lit up when he saw Hermione sat in one of the chairs, a gap on either side of her. Ron was sitting in a seat behind her to her left and Neville was on the other side of the room, along with two girls Harry remembered were Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil.

The short man at the front of the class briefly looked up and smiled. “Ah excellent, the Hufflepuffs are here. Now we just need the Slytherins and the Ravenclaws to arrive. Hufflepuffs, make sure to sit on any of the seats I’ve marked with yellow tape only.”

The students nodded and Harry noted each chair had some tape corresponding to a house colour. That explained why everyone had gaps between them, it must have been the teacher’s seating plan.

Harry sat down on the first yellow chair he found, a blue chair beside him on one side and Neville to the other side.

“Nice to meet you,” He said quietly, holding out a hand. The boy nervously took it.

“Nice t-to meet you too,” The boy said nervously, though Harry didn’t think it was due to his fame. The boy seemed to have a general nervous disposition anyways. “Neville Longbottom.”

“Harry Potter-Granger.” Harry smiled, letting go of the other boy’s hand while Hannah sat down beside Ron across the room. A minute later robes of both green and blue arrived and Harry had very mixed feelings.

Well honestly almost completely negative feelings about the group he saw he had been paired with for Slytherins. There was a pug-faced and mean-looking girl with brown hair that Harry remembered as Pansy Parkinson, the girl who had made Malfoy uncomfortable at the feast. It seemed she was still content to try to hang onto him as she was walking very near to said boy who was also part of the group, with his bodyguards Crabbe and Goyle staggering along stupidly.

Maybe Parkinson wouldn’t be as bad as Malfoy but Harry had his doubts already based on her wearing a matching sneer almost as if imitating Malfoy. The only upside Harry could see was that, at the back of the group, Daphne walked in while keeping a bit of distance from the rest of her housemates.

Harry caught her eye and she looked… apologetic, but it quickly disappeared as she took a seat beside Hermione. The other Slytherins kept their distance and shot her questioning looks.

Harry was perturbed when after a shrug she shot Hermione a look that definitely didn’t seem as friendly as it was before. Before anyone could worry about it though, the Ravenclaws also took their seats and the short brown-haired bespectacled Ravenclaw sat on Harry’s side.

“Hello.” He quickly introduced himself and Harry held a hand out, which the boy took. “Terry Boot.”

“Harry Potter-Granger.” He said and the other boy nodded, clearly already well aware. Before anything more could be said there was the sound of a clearing of the throat and the tiny little teacher that was their Charms Professor (who sat atop a pile of books on his chair) looked around them all.

“Welcome class, I am elated to see you all and see none of you have disappeared to do something else on the first day. I never do find it all that  _ charming _ when my students make a bad first impression.” The tiny wizard said, chuckling at his own joke and the reactions it got. “Now, let us just quickly deal with roll call. First, the Ravenclaws: Terry Boot? Anthony Goldstein? Su Li? Padma Patil? Lisa Turpin?”

He waited for a ‘here’ or ‘present’ from each student before continuing onto the next name. “Excellent now the Hufflepuffs. Hannah Abbot? Susan Bones? Justin Finch-Fetchley? Ernie Macmillan? Harry Potter-Granger?”

“Here,” Harry answered clearly and the small professor looked over before suddenly letting out a startled squeak and falling over, making the whole class jump in surprise.

“Oh dear, are you alright, Professor?” Lisa asked concerned and the small man nodded, quickly clambering back up into place.

“Oh I’m just fine, just surprised is all. Sorry about that Mister Potter, I thought I’d just seen your father for a moment, hadn’t seen you properly yet. Moving on, Gryffindors!”

Soon enough, he’d ascertained for sure that everyone was present and hopped up onto his desk, clapping his hands together.

“Wonderful! I am Fillius Flitwick but I would prefer Professor Flitwick,” He joked, earning a few chuckles. “Now, let us truly get to the heart of this class. I believe you’ll have it marked down as Magical Theory?” He asked the room and they all nodded. With a smile he pulled out a wand that looked rather large in his tiny hand and gave it a quick wave, papers appearing in front of them all. “This isn’t common reading material but I feel it’s best for my students to be up to snuff right away. This is the latest ministry approved and peer-reviewed report on Magical Theory, written in nineteen eighty-two. Don’t worry about some of it going over your head, I will be simplifying it as I explain. Is there anyone who can tell me what the five commonly accepted Classes of Magic are?”

A few hands were raised, including Hermione who nearly slapped Daphne by accident with how fast her hand went up. Harry had to suppress a chuckle and a good-natured eye roll.

Some things never change.

Harry himself didn’t raise his hand, much preferring to observe during a lesson than take an active role when it came to theory. Amongst the others who raised their hands, there were all the Ravenclaws, a slightly shy looking Daphne (if you looked close enough) and a very smug-looking Malfoy. Flitwick surveyed them all with a smile before pointing at the female Granger in the room.

“Miss Granger?”

“The five commonly accepted Classes of Magic in the Wizarding World are Charms, Transfiguration, Enchantments, Conjuration, and Dark Arts. Bewitchments are often confused for their own Class of Magic but are just Enchantments with more negative connotations and Illusions though very unique are a subset of the Charms class of magic. Conjuration is also often considered to be just Transfiguration despite being a unique Class of Magic in and of itself, sir.”

Harry smiled slightly as some people looked at the girl in shock at her in-depth answer. The blonde Slytherin beside her lips twitched up very briefly but you’d have to be looking very closely to notice. Professor Flitwick let out a delighted squeak as he clapped his hand together.

“Excellent, a very astute answer. Ten points to Gryffindor, Miss Granger!” He said, making the bushy-haired Gryffindor beam. “Now, can someone else tell me other fields of magic that some might confuse for a Class of Magic, especially students at this school?”

Harry had a small amused smile come onto his face at the minor hint the teacher gave and it grew at seeing his sister looking put out at being unable to answer every question. A bit of good old friendly teasing of his sister wouldn’t hurt, so for once, he raised his hand. He noticed fewer people looked confident in answering this time, only Daphne, the Ravenclaws, and Ron daring to raise their hands.

“Mister Potter-Granger.” Flitwick nodded at him eagerly. He had picked the raven-haired boy almost immediately the second he saw the student had his hand up. Harry got an odd feeling he’d been waiting for Harry to move to answer a question and his eyes were watching him as if appraising his worth.

Harry didn’t let it make him falter though in his answer.

“Potions, Herbology, and Astronomy.” He answered clearly, with confidence. Unable to help himself, he turned to his inner-Hermione to match said girl’s answer from before. “Even Care of Magical Creatures in some cases. They are obviously classes here at Hogwarts that teach magical subjects, but they are not Classes of Magic, as Classes in that instance is being used similarly to the way one would use the word field. It refers to a specific type of magic we’re capable of doing, while Potions, Herbology, Astronomy, and Magical Creatures are all external sources of magic and therefore not Classes of Magic a Witch or Wizard is naturally capable of.”

Now it was Harry’s turn for impressed looks from some of the students. Malfoy especially had a look on his face that made Harry want to grin, clearly the boy had thought one of those subjects  _ had _ qualified as a Class of Magic. Hermione, when no one was looking, briefly stuck her tongue out at him though it was clearly playful and Harry couldn’t mistake the look in her eyes.

‘You’re on!’

So much for not answering questions in class.

Flitwick looked very excited, clapping happily even more so than he had with Hermione. Harry wondered if he had some personal reason for wanting Harry to be good at this based on his reaction. “Tremendous! A stellar answer! Ten points to Hufflepuff. You are both absolutely spot on. What Mister Potter-Granger has listed are external magic just as he said, items and objects which contain magical properties.” He managed to calm down and began surveying the room with an excited glint in his eyes and a smile on his face betraying his excitement to be teaching. It was an odd sight to see a teacher not tired but instead happy to be teaching, to Harry.

“Now, I would ask what magic  _ is _ but even some of the world’s most esteemed researchers can get barely any further than it being an… energy of sorts we all have in us and that is in the air. It is said there are different types of magic in there, based on emotions, conditions, and other such stuff but for you all, all you truly need to know is you have a naturally high amount of magic in you. That’s how you are all witches and wizards; for the sake of the muggle-born students here, you were born with such a high amount that it started naturally replenishing itself and it’s at that point you can be considered a Witch or Wizard,” He explained and a few eyes lit up in sudden understanding, from those who hadn’t yet read or heard about that. Flitwick waved his wand and the papers on the desk flipped open. “Now, due to how potent the magic in you all is, you are able to call upon it and thus manipulate it. That is what spells are and now that you understand that, we can begin to get a basic understanding of the five Classes of Magic and how they differ from one another. Let’s start with the best shall we and read the Charms section?”

There were a few chuckles at that cheeky grin the professor gave them all before he cleared his throat. Harry turned his gaze down to the paper before him while the teacher’s simplified explanation rang out through the classroom.

“When dealing with Charm-based spells, one must be sure to cast their magic. What this means is that you must imagine the desired end result, call forth your magic, and then cast the spell. Once this is done, a successfully cast charmed will do what the user wants immediately, though results will vary from person to person due to how potent one’s magic is and how active their imagination may be at that moment.” Flitwick explained, his little white beard quivering as he reached the next part, looking amused. “As a result, the Charms Class of Magic houses some of the most… eccentric spells you’ll encounter when learning here at Hogwarts. That is not to say they are not useful but Transfiguration requires a certain level of… discipline that will keep the spells from being too extravagant in most cases. Can anyone give me an example of a charm?”

Terry was called on this time and once he was he adjusted his glasses quickly before answering. “The Amplifying Charm, sir. It amplifies the volume of the sound of anything it’s cast on, including a person’s own voice.”

“Excellent Mister Boot; Ten points to Ravenclaw. Now, speaking of Transfiguration, that Class of Magic is next in the list. What you must understand is that when you are casting spells related to this kind of magic, you don’t cast your magic like you do in charms but  _ mould _ it. What this means is that instead of merely imagining the end results you wish to achieve, you must visualize in your mind the entire process from start to finish. Every little detail needs to be accounted for during Transfiguration spells. This is why they are considered some of the hardest spells to master, as even a single detail unaccounted for can cause serious issues with whatever it is you’ve tried to Transfigure. Can anyone give me an example of a Transfiguration spell?”

It was Hannah who was called on next, chewing at her lip nervously as she shyly answered “Multicorfors?”, sounding as if she wasn’t entirely certain of herself. Flitwick however beamed.

“An excellent example, the colour changing spell. Quite a simple one but useful, especially if you happen to be a tailor.” Flitwick’s eyes twinkled for a moment. “I assume that’s where you know it from?”

Hannah perked up, looking relieved she hadn’t messed up. “Yes sir. My mother’s a tailor.”

“Well done then on remembering it; five points to Hufflepuff!” Flitwick cheered happily. “Now, moving on, Enchantments are next in the list. Many consider these to be nothing more than a subclass of Charms and often get confused when they are listed as their own Class of Magic, but what one must realize is that a Class of Magic is defined by how the form of magic is cast and Enchantments are suitably different enough from Charms to be defined as their own class. Whereas Charms come entirely from your own imagination and magic, Enchantments need to feed on the natural magical energy in the air itself to work. This makes them much harder to perform. It also makes them far more permanent than most normal charms which all will usually wear off with time, unless you will them to latch onto another’s magic which is still somewhat easier than willing an item to feed of the general magic in the air around it,  _ especially _ to maintain a specific imagined effect. Can anyone give me an example of an enchantment?”

“Arlean Volo!” Ron called out, with a smile on his face once he was picked, sounding very confident. Flitwick beamed.

“Oh very good indeed, I do enjoy that spell, the flight enchantment. Five points to Gryffindor. Now, following up from Enchantments is Conjuration. Just as Enchantments are often merely lumped in with Charms, the same occurs with Conjuration and Transfiguration. However, it is separated for similar reasons as Enchantments is. Can anyone take an educated guess as to how these types of spells might be performed?” The teacher questioned, surveying for more hands. He got quite a few this time, it seemed his style of teaching had put everyone at ease and encouraged them to try to answer, even if they weren’t certain. He smiled in Harry’s direction and the raven-haired teen only just noticed the Gryffindor beside him had raised his hand. “Mister Longbottom?”

“I-Is it t-that you’d h-have to mould m-magic a-around you into a r-real shape instead of c-changing a-an actual object?” He took a wild guess, stuttering badly with nerves. Flitwick smiled kindly.

“You’re close young man, certainly you have gotten a component of it correct although rarely will you mould magic around you. Even Albus Dumbledore cannot do that without great strain upon himself.” Flitwick explained. “You are, however, right about transfiguring magic itself instead of an actual existing object. This is why it’s often mistaken as a sub-category of Transfiguration magic, however, there is also a component of Charms work to it that makes it its own thing. You see, you will merely imagine the non-physical properties of whatever you create, which is casting like charms and not moulding. It is a sort of hybrid of the Charms and Transfiguration Classes of Magic if you will. For example, were you to conjure up a snake, it’s scales, its length, all of its appearance would have come from the transfiguration portion of the magic. The personality of the snake, however, its life, how it chooses to move, perhaps even unique powers it may possess should you be so creatively inclined, would all come from casting in the same way you would a Charms spell.”

He once more asked for an example of a spell and it was answered again by Hermione who offered up Serpensortia, the snake summoning spell. She’d gotten another ten points for that.

“Finally, the last Class of Magic is... perhaps in need of a split between its more severe spells and it’s more mild spells into different classes. Nevertheless, the final Class of Magic is Dark Arts. Professor Quirell will be explaining more in-depth what is involved with the dark arts so I will merely inform you now that if a spell is known as a Jinx, Hex, or Curse, it is by definition a form of Dark Arts. Of course, there are far, _far_ more harmful sides to this branch of magic than mere tripping jinxes, such as rituals. I do find it best not to dwell on this subject however you must understand them if you are to defend against them, hence why you must know the definition of them. Any spells designed to make another suffer, whether minor or majorly, is a form of Dark Arts. I ask you save questions for this branch of magic for your Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.”

It didn’t escape anyone’s attention that he didn’t ask for an example this time. Harry wondered if this was a deliberate move on whoever designed this class’ part to avoid students learning more about such magic.

“Now, I will save the in-depth explanations of those other types of magic to your teachers, aside from Charms which I will of course be teaching myself. I will also leave Potions, Astronomy, and Herbology to your other teachers, as they will prefer to start such subjects from the very beginning as though you have no prior knowledge, I am sure. So I will wrap up with two final questions. First, can anyone tell me at least some of the five I’s of spell casting?” The professor looked around curiously and met Daphne’s eye who was looking more confident than ever with her hand held high, practically demanding his attention. “Miss Greengrass?”

“I can tell you all five, professor.” She smiled, looking genuinely happy to share. “Incantation, the spell words that help guide the spell. Intent, our intent is what determines what our magic is trying to do. Imagination, the better we are at imagining what we want to happen the more successful the spell is likely to be. Immersion, the more immersed we can make ourselves in our imagination of the spell, and therefore the better we can picture it, the more successful and accurate it will be. Finally, improvement, constant practice of successful spells will reinforce how we want them to happen and so make sure they are less likely to fail in future, establishing working spells firmly in our mind.”

“Oh, absolutely outstanding! Textbook answer, Miss Greengrass, ten points to Slytherin!” The professor squeaked happily, looking around. “She is right of course. To be a bit more in-depth, incantations help condition your mind to make you think a certain way, conjure a specific picture in your mind. The goal is to ensure you can always cast the spell correctly when you say or hear those words. This is also one reason why they are often in other languages. It prevents accidental spells from happening when you’re having normal conversations with a wand in hand. Hearing someone say ‘explosion’ in a conversation and having your magic react would not do, you know.” Everyone chuckled lightly at his example. “Aside from that, there is another reason so many spells rely on another language. It is also why many sound, at the least, like faux-latin. Can anyone tell me why this is?”

It was Harry’s turn to raise his hand again.

“Mister Potter-Granger?”

“It’s because, at least according to the most popular theory, Latin is a dead language from one of the times when magic was at its most prominent. The language, having not been used for so many years except in passing, has been quietly absorbing magic for a long time. Because it is all but dead, it also doesn’t come up often in general conversation at all. Finally, due to being inundated with magic, there’s a theory it helps guide magic to be more accurate by using accurate translations to help your own magic determine your intent more accurately.”

“Splendid! Another ten points to Hufflepuff!” Professor Flitwick clapped, nodding. “You are right as well. While it might seem omnipresent to us, in reality there are multiple places in the world devoid of magic. Even in places where it does exist, it can fade, and most forget to account for the fact that magic is not simply one universal singular thing that knows all. It is of many different types, of many different things, and can appear seemingly out of thin air. For all its wonders, magic is not omniscient, not all-knowing. This is why using words from Latin or at least parts of words determined to hold suitable magical power, will help ensure spells are far more powerful. Are there any other questions?”

Everyone shook their heads and Flitwick smiled.

“In that case, it wouldn’t do for you all to leave without knowing how to actually use your wands. We’ll finally get started on the simplest spell for any witch or wizard, the spark shooting spell. Now repeat the incantation after me: ‘Igniculus!’”

The spell was repeated by the students loudly.

“Excellent! Now, let us work on actually producing some results…”

The class would spend the next two hours all taking turns performing and perfecting the spark shooting spell, which had a very simple wand movement of simply jabbing the wand upwards to the sky. Professor Flitwick was determined to make sure every single member of his class could perform this spell before they’d leave, so they’d all have at least one successful spell under their belts.

He’d also explained it was the most commonly used spell in general situations to alert others when you were in need of help and what kind, simply by sending up different coloured sparks. So the second period had been dedicated to them all making sure they could send up sparks in nearly every single colour of the rainbow. (In fact, Harry  _ had _ sent up a rainbow spark that kept shifting between colours by accident when the thought had gone through his head as he was casting. Everyone else had been briefly entranced by the light show.)

Finally, class came to an end and everyone else was piling out when Harry heard Professor Flitwick call for him to stay. The room emptied out and Harry walked up to the small wizard.

“Sir? Is something wrong? I’m not in trouble for the rainbow spark am I?” He asked, a tad worried. The tiny man immediately shook his head.

“Hardly, Mister Potter! If it wasn’t for my desire to make sure you get this spell down pat perfectly I’d have been tempted to give you a few points for doing a more complicated version of the spell, albeit still one of the easiest in the book.” He explained kindly, sizing the boy up. “No, I wanted to talk to you about your… Unique talents that the headmaster has informed me of.”

“You mean my telekinesis, sir?” Harry asked and the man nodded.

“Would you be so kind as to give a demonstration of this ability? I have never heard of such a phenomenon before.”

Seeing no harm in it, Harry gave a shrug and lifted up his left hand, pointing it at a book on a shelf across the roof. The book immediately lifted up into the air. Harry let it hover for a few moments before having it zoom to him, for him to catch with ease.

“Oh my goodness! A wandless Wingardium Leviosa is impressive enough but a wandless summoning charm too? What an extraordinary ability!” Flitwick cheered in amusement. Harry looked confused. “I suppose it may not seem much like a big deal to you, as you have not experienced how difficult what you’ve just done would be to other Wizards. You see Mister Potter, wandless magic is rare and difficult, for the simplest of spells. Merely levitating the book up is impressive enough that had you not been born with the ability but learnt it, you would be in possession of at least fifty more house points now and that would be for a first year charm. I plan to have the rest of your class learn the levitation charm by the time Halloween rolls around. The Summon however is advanced magic, not taught in theory until fourth year and not truly put to use until fifth year. To be able to do it so casually…”

The tiny wizard was bouncing around excitedly. “Sir? What does this mean then? Is this all you wanted to know?”

“Well, not just that. Is levitation all you can do, Mister Potter?” Flitwick inquired with a raised brow, his eyes dancing madly with an uncontained desire to find out everything he could.

“As far as I know sir.”

“Hmm… Well, I wonder if you perhaps might not be able to learn to perform other spells using this? At least other Charm spells, as it seems you have a connection to that branch of magic through your telekinesis.” Flitwick pondered and Harry went wide-eyed at the implication. “Ah, there is only one way to find out and I believe I have most certainly kept you long enough. If you are agreeable Mister Potter, I would like you to meet me after dinner tonight so we may discuss some extra lessons regarding your abilities.”

“That would be brilliant sir!” Harry said, a smile breaking out on his face at the thought. Flitwick returned it.

“Glad to hear it, now off you go. You don’t want to be late for lunch.” The teacher smiled and shooed him off. Harry hurried out, being happy to find his sister as well as Hannah waiting for him. He promised Hermione he’d tell her what he wanted him for later and they set off, chatting excitedly about their first lesson as they hurried down to the Great Hall.

As Hermione grilled Hannah for information about what wizarding tailors were like, wanting to know more about the Multicorfors spell the blonde Hufflepuff had mentioned in class, Harry was content to sit back and listen as they walked, observing different groups walking by.

Most of them were unfamiliar faces of course, as Harry had still only been in the school for one day. He did recognize Cedric Diggory walking by with a group of older Hufflepuffs at one point though, the good looking Hufflepuff showing them all his wrist which had a very interesting looking bangle on it with little jewels glinting off them. In fact, several of the Hufflepuffs were wearing some, Harry noticed.

“Yeah, George Weasley sold me it. Or was it Fred?” He heard Cedric saying to his friends. “Ah well, either way, just like you said Richard. They’re calling them Dark Deflectors. They’re insisting they’re enchanted to deflect all common hexes, without any need for a wand.”

“You really believe them though? The Weasley twins?” Another Hufflepuff asked skeptically.

“Actually, yeah. If it were anyone else, I’d call rubbish, but we all know just how good the twins are at enchantments and one thing they’ve always taken seriously is their ‘business’ selling stuff. Can’t think of any time they’ve lied about a product they’ve been selling, especially when they’re expensive.”

“Well, hopefully, we won’t need to put them to the test.” Another Hufflepuff shrugged as they disappeared around the corner, just as Harry, Hermione, and Hannah reached the Great Hall for lunch.

* * *

Classes all week had been interesting for Harry. Completely by accident, he’d found himself making quite a few friends, simply due to seating arrangements and who he was often partnered with.

After lunch on Monday, he’d gone to History of Magic with his group and it took them only half the class to realize that with a teacher like Professor Binns (a ghost who supposedly had just continued to teach even after his death), even the most studious students would struggle to get anything done.

Hermione was the only one who managed to actually focus and even then, Harry swore he saw her head lull once or twice, the ghost professor’s droning voice being too boring for even her. Harry had found a simple solution, though.

Binns merely read from the textbook and did essentially nothing else, so he’d ended up striking up a conversation with the people near him, albeit in whispers, while merely copying down notes by just reading the book in front of him. It made the lesson a lot more bearable.

Although it was kind of odd that all his conversational partners were female in that class, as he was sat between Lisa Turpin on one side of him, the Patil twins on the other, Lavender Brown right behind him, and Hermione in front of him. Aside from his sister, they were all quite keen to talk with one another and, due to his desire to not fall asleep, Harry found he’d simply have to get used to ending up in conversations with the lot of them.

Honestly, it wasn’t as bad as he thought it might be, aside from when they were complaining about make-up. Lisa and Padma Patil usually helped keep Harry from being too bored, however, not being as overly girly as Lavender or Parvati. Plus the former of the two overly girly girls did have a funny sense of humour when she wasn’t being too focused on girly things.

Herbology had proven to be a very fun class and Harry immensely enjoyed being taught by his head of house, whose kind demeanour was able to put the whole class at ease while keeping them respectful and heeding all warnings she gave with understanding.

Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors had been paired up at one table while Slytherins and Ravenclaws were paired up at another and Harry ended up with Neville Longbottom as his Herbology partner. Harry was surprised to find that in Herbology, Neville practically became a whole other person. He was more sure of himself, more understanding of the subject before him. He wasn’t shy to answer questions in this class and he had a quiet confidence he didn’t seem to have anywhere else.

All in all, it was a nice side to the boy and Harry was hopeful, especially as Neville was knowledgeable and quite pleasant to work with, that he’d be partnered up with the Gryffindor more in future Herbology classes, learning more about Wormwood and Dittany.

In Defense Against The Dark Arts, Harry had gotten a chance to finally sit with his sister, near the back of the classroom. They’d both arrived and Harry had dragged her into a seat nearby straight away before he could end up partnered with someone else as he wanted at least one class where he could work in tandem with his sister. Plus, while it was nice to make new friends, doing it by finding yourself forced into a seat beside strangers every time was a bit annoying.

In that class, they’d finally learnt the difference between jinxes, hexes, and curses. Apparently, it was severity of suffering. Jinxes were only meant to cause mild suffering, Hexes moderate, and curses extreme. It was however noted that due to personal perceptions, there was a lot of debate over which spells qualified as which.

That was the most informative part of the lesson before Quirrel had walked over to Harry and his entire body had set alight with a nervousness, his magic prickling under his skin the whole time. Something in him shouting to run like it had at the welcoming feast.

Harry squashed it down, assuming it was just the atmosphere in the room. Quirell probably had to perform Dark Arts all the time with his class and Harry’s magic was just sensitive to it. It made sense to him.

What made less sense was how Quirrell could stand the overwhelming stench coming off his turban, that completely threw Harry’s focus for most of the rest of the lesson.

Harry didn’t look forward to the double session of it tomorrow if Quirell was going to keep standing so close to him. However, the new class he had the next day he found really enjoyable.

It was Astronomy, which took place at midnight. While it was late and of course everyone was a bit tired, Harry still found the class utterly relaxing despite Professor Sinistra being fairly strict. It was just nice and calm, watching stars and planets and a calm note-taking of where it was. It was peaceful and he spent the class working with Hannah, who he’d been partnered with. Between the two of them, they were able to maintain a moderate pace with some occasional friendly chatting that made the activity very enjoyable for them both. Harry had the best sleep he’d had so far after that class within his dorm room.

Transfiguration only had two periods in the week and that was the double period held on Thursday. Harry found himself sitting beside Ron Weasley and found he had to guide the redhead quite a lot too. Harry wondered if the boy might not have some mental problems affecting his concentration, as Ron hadn’t done too bad at charms but was struggling very badly with the matches to needles assignment they had to work on come the second period. Mind you, everyone struggled at first, keeping concentration and focus for the Transfiguration spells was hard after all.

It had been Hermione who had done it successfully first, followed by Harry who had used his telekinesis as an internal guide. He thought about how he used his ability and adapted it to the Transfiguration spell and with some trial and error he’d gotten a perfect needle. He’d soon been followed by Terry Boot and Daphne.

Malfoy had gotten close but the bell had rung signalling time was up, while his needle was still made of wood. He couldn’t stop glaring at the four different house members on the way out.

Sadly, though, one thing that had become apparent with the lessons was that something had certainly happened with Daphne. Now, when she entered lessons, she outright ignored all the people she’d spent time with on the train.

She only ever looked when other Slytherins weren’t and though her face showed conflict, when the snakes around her looked, it instead showed contempt. She’d glare at others with a look similar to Malfoy’s until her housemates would stop staring. Harry would be a liar if he said it didn’t hurt.

Hermione was probably hurting more, however. Malfoy and Parkinson had a nasty habit of verbally demeaning everyone else they thought was beneath them and though Daphne never added to it, nor did she seem to believe it but neither did she ever try to stop it. She just ignored it, letting it continue on. Seeing as Hermione was a favourite target at first…

Still, Harry had made sure a textbook that smacked Malfoy upside the head when no one was looking, a collapsed desk, and a wand that flew across the room right into the back of a teacher’s head, came together to ensure that the Slytherin’s thought twice before talking out of worry for another incident. They still hadn’t figured out it was Harry yet.

Still, Harry wanted to know what happened to the Daphne he’d met in Diagon Alley and the train. She hadn’t acted like this before, he was certain she didn’t agree with it, so why was she doing this?

As if summoned by his thoughts, as he ate at breakfast that Friday morning, the sound of muffled shouting reached him and he looked up to see Daphne bursting in, looking very annoyed, followed by a sneering Pansy Parkinson glaring at her retreating form.

Harry clenched a fist. Unfortunately, sometimes he had a feeling he knew what the answer was. That Daphne had already told him why and he’d just never expected it would have to go this far…

He was surprised when Daphne looked right at him, her facing morphing from annoyance to sadness, and mouthed ‘sorry’ as if reading his mind. Her eyes showed a genuine level of remorse.

She knew what she was doing then. That just became apparent. Before he could think more on it, however, several owls came swooping down from above. This was a common occurrence at Hogwarts it turned out. Every morning, owls would come swooping down during breakfast to deliver mail to everyone who had something to receive, nick some food from the recipients, and be off back to the owlery or wherever they’d come from.

Harry and Hermione had agreed to wait until the end of the first week to send a letter to their parents so it was a surprise for them when both spotted Hedwig, easily visible with her brilliant white feathers in amongst the brown and grey owls around her, coming down to Harry. She landed with a happy hoot and held out her foot.

Harry, surprised, quickly untied the letter and handed her a small part of his breakfast, thanking her. She let out a proud hoot, rustling her wings.

Quickly opening the letter, Harry was surprised to find it out who it was from.

_ Harry _

__

_ We didn’t get to talk much at the station. If you want, I’d love to have you and your sister round for tea after school, around four? Would love to talk properly. You can invite any of your friends as well, more the merrier. _

__

_ Hope to hear about your first week. Send us back an answer with Hedwig. (Beautiful owl, she is.) _

__

_ Hagrid _

Harry smiled in surprised delight and quickly pulled out a pen, writing out a quick answer. He was getting used to writing with a quill but if it wasn’t for his school work he was still using a pen for the moment so his messages would come across clearly until he was better with a quill.

He wrote down he’d be happy to visit before giving the letter to Hewdig who took off immediately with her new task and Harry couldn’t stop grinning for the rest of breakfast.

He had only one more new class today. Potions.

* * *

Harry had been excited for this class all summer but certain things here or there had chipped into his excitement. The way others reacted to the subject, especially in regards to how it was taught. The way said teacher, Severus Snape, seemed to glare any time he saw Harry out and about, even if that was rare.

The way Malfoy seemed to be snickering all morning about how good it would be to see Harry in this class had been especially worrying. Then finally it had begun and Harry’s excitement for the subject all but evaporated almost immediately when Snape came storming in.

Oh, at first he’d seemed just a normal, understandably strict if a bit unpleasant teacher as he’d begun his opening introduction even as he was walking down to the front of the class.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he had begun. He’d spoken in barely more than a whisper, but they were glued to every word. Snape seemingly had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. "As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses... I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death -- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach!"

Unpleasant ending aside, it was an effective opening. It established him as someone who knew what he was doing, someone who commanded their respect, someone who they should be paying attention to. Hermione was on the edge of her seat, enraptured.

Harry had first let his excitement rise a bit, then Snape had begun role call and reached Harry’s name. His next words were an unexpected punch to the gut. “Ah yes, Mister Potter…. Granger? Our new celebrity.“ He practically spat out the word ‘celebrity’. “Already trying to cause a stir by using a muggle family to change your name?”

Harry’s jaw nearly dropped as Snape sneered. Hermione instantly went from enraptured and eager to shocked, before pushing back into a glare. Harry didn’t say anything though, too shocked by the sudden and needless attack on him. He felt a bit of anger bubble up inside him, as he did his best to ignore the four Slytherins snickering at him. How dare this complete stranger insult his connection with his adopted family like that?

Snape continued on unperturbed when he realized he wouldn’t be getting a reaction from the shocked boy. Finally, he finished and it seemed he would move on until…

“POTTER!” Harry jumped a mile in his skin as Snape stormed up to him, glaring at the boy. “What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?”

Harry blinked in shock. The man was just going to call him out in the middle of class like this? Harry had read his books, he knew this wouldn’t be a question until near the end of their first year at the least. The man was deliberately setting him up to fail.

Swallowing and steeling himself, Harry met the man’s eyes and answered, as calmly as he was able to, refusing to let the man win whatever mean-spirited game he was trying to force upon him. “The Draught of Living Death, sir, a sleeping potion that makes whoever takes it appear dead from how deep a sleep they fall into. There is no known cure.”

Malfoy’s snickering stopped and he gaped at Harry. The Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, and Gryffindors watched on with confusion, though they seemed to be silently cheering Harry on with smiles when he answered while looking at the Professor as though he was something foul. It seemed no one was particularly agreeable to the man’s game except some of the Slytherins.

Daphne, however, was nodding and giving Harry a very rapid nod of the head, out of sight of the other Slytherins. Snape looked slightly surprised before he covered it up with a worse sneer than his previous one. Harry was suddenly very glad for his and Hermione’s quizzes and recalling what she’d told him about detailed answers, he made sure to recall every single thing he could.

“So, you could take that arrogant overgrown head of yours out for five minutes of reading. I suppose those glasses had to be good for something other than making you look a fool.” He snapped, making more than one person gape. Hermione looked like she was actually considering reaching for her wand. “Where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?”

“In your supply cupboard, as all Herbologists and Potions Masters keep one on hand for emergencies. If I had to find one raw, however, I’d look around for it in the stomach of a goat, because it is a stone-like mass that forms into a marble shape, made out of things like hair, plant fibre, or similar ingredients that can’t be digested. It is a cure to most poisons, though doesn’t work on everything.” Harry explained, never once taking his eyes off the man, who looked like he was very much not pleased with how this interaction was going.

“Stole notes from another student before coming to class, Mister Potter? Now that just is unacceptable.” Snape glared. Harry felt his stomach do a flip in sheer indignant anger. Hannah now also looked like she wanted to speak up which was even more surprising. While Hermione disagreeing with a teacher or authority was rare, she’d always been as protective of her brother as he was of her. Hannah however had proven very nervous in class over the past week, similar to how Neville could be, and so it was a surprise to see her genuinely glaring at a teacher. Even Daphne was starting to give her head of house dirty looks. “I’ll see to it that is dealt with. What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?”

“Nothing, sir. They are the same plant. They also go by the name of aconite and can be extremely toxic to anyone who comes into contact with the leaves of them. The root however is used in several potions that prevent transfiguration like effects from occurring, depending on the potion and other ingredients.”

“Very well.” Snape snarled, clearly annoyed Harry was answering correctly before looking around. “Well? Why aren’t you copying this down!?”

Everyone quickly began scribbling away, writing down what they’d heard. Snape meanwhile stood up, glaring down at Harry and announced the most infuriating thing so far.

“For your disrespect and arrogance, that will be one point from Hufflepuff, Potter.”

The explosion of complaints was deafening and not just from Harry’s fellow Hufflepuffs. The Ravenclaws and the Gryffindors too were quick to declare the point reduction unfair and nothing more than bullying at this rate. Even some of the Slytherins looked shocked at the point taken for a moment.

“Silence! I did not ask for the opinion of children without authority. Five points from each of you who complained.” He declared, dropping several jaws. He managed to enrage them further with his smug smirk. “And ten points to Slytherin for them being smart and keeping quiet. The instructions are on the board! Begin!”

Everyone reluctantly got to work and Harry moved to Hermione.

“Oh, I hardly think I’m going to let such a young troublemaker be with his partner in crime.” Snape sneered, looking around. Harry felt himself on the verge of actually shouting at the man but he was given a saving grace in the form of a voice he had been hoping to hear be friendly to him all week.

“Sir, may I request your help with a partner?” Daphne’s voice called. The second Snape looked at her she gave Harry a glare that looked very mean-spirited and he felt his heart drop. “I have some trouble understanding the reading material.”

“Take Potter,” Snape smirked, sounding amused as he practically shoved Harry to the girl. “And don’t blow up my classroom.”

The Slytherins grinned, the other students watched the pair wearily and Snape turned, stalking off as noise began to rise in the room. The second there was decent cover and no one was looking, Daphne leaned in.

“Relax, I’m not going to do anything. That was… I can’t believe they let that man teach.” Daphne said quietly. “I’m sorry about how I’ve been pretending to be.”

“So, it’s just an act like I thought?” He asked, relieved and she nodded.

“Just an act. I know you’ll ask why but just, I promise I’ll explain soon. Let’s not give Snape more reasons to go off on whatever the heck kind of tirade that was again. I’m hoping me and you together will cancel out any favouritism or bias and make him judge us fairly, and that he won’t split us if he thinks I’ll be trying to interfere with your work.” She said and the two set to work. “I do like sharing classes with you though, I just wish it was more friendly.”

“Me too.” Harry nodded as they settled down and began quietly talking as they worked, doing an equal amount of work. Harry prepared ingredients, while Daphne watched over the cauldron and stirred it when necessary.

If it wasn’t for Snape, it might have actually been enjoyable, but the unpleasant teacher hadn’t yet exhausted his nastiness as he swept around the room, criticizing everyone as he went, especially Gryffindors.

He snapped at Ron about his ‘inherent Weasley foolishness’ showing itself when he mixed up one ingredient with another. Hannah had Snape breathing down her neck at one point and despite having done fine the rest of the lesson, his harsh glare soon got her shaking which hadn’t pleased Snape at all. (“If this is your demeanour with your teacher looking over your results, I pity your future exam results.”)

It took all Harry’s self-control to not be taken by his temptation to use his telekinesis and throw the professor headfirst into one of the cauldrons. The only upside to the class was Daphne was talking to him, quietly and making it look as if she was being more unpleasant than she really was.

In fact, any time Snape looked their way, Harry would feel a small hand squeeze his wrist in comfort as he worked, hidden out of sight of judging eyes. Really, his Slytherin friend was what made the class worth getting through without just storming out the room, as she was the only thing giving him brief bursts of happiness as he finally got to talk to her properly for the first time since the train.

Sadly, all good things must come to an end and Snape wasn’t content to let said ending be happy. Neville had somehow managed to melt Seamus's cauldron into a twisted blob, and their potion was seeping across the stone floor, burning holes in people's shoes. Within seconds, the whole class was standing on their stools while Neville, who had been drenched in the potion when the cauldron collapsed, moaned in pain as painful-looking red boils sprang up all over his limbs.

"Idiot boy!" Snarled Snape, as he cleared the spilled potion away with a wave of his wand. "I suppose you added the porcupine quills before taking the cauldron off the fire?"

Neville whimpered as boils started to pop up all over his nose.

“Take him to the hospital wing.” Snape spat at Neville’s partner before rounding and storming up to Harry of all people. “Potter!”

“Yes sir?” Harry asked, trying his damnedest not to let his irritation show.

“Why did you not tell him not to add them?” Harry had to bite back his desire to snarl back at the man that they were on the other side of the room. He’d never wanted to snarl at anyone before but the professor was pushing him far more than anyone had before. “Thought it would make you look good, did you?”

“No sir, I was focused on my own potion—“

“Don’t! Speak back to me!” Snape spat angrily, looming over the boy. “I see you’ve left Miss Greengrass to do all your work as well, hoping to steal all the credit? Detention, Potter!”

“What?!” Harry asked before he could stop himself, earning another glare.

“I don’t tolerate laziness—“

“But sir!” Daphne spoke up before she seemed to be able to stop herself, surprising Harry and Snape. “We’ve been splitting the work evenly.”

“I don’t see any indication of that,” Snape said coolly. “I see you standing dealing with the cauldron like a sensible Slytherin while your partner stands about lazily doing nothing. Dismissed! All of you! And don’t think you’ll be escaping punishment, Potter.”

“….That man….” Daphne looked like she wanted to shout, shocked and angry. “I’m sorry, Harry.”

“It’s not your fault,” He assured her, sighing. “He seems like he has it out for me…”

“He shouldn’t.” Daphne frowned, walking to the door. “I’ll try not to let him get you next week…”

Harry blinked in surprise at the quiet promise. He saw her smile at him before suddenly changing to a sneer and cold words came out.

“And don’t even think of telling Snape I messed up your potion on purpose. Besides, he won’t believe you.” She suddenly turned and stormed off. Harry blinked, before the Slytherins all snickered as they walked by.

That all but confirmed it then.

Daphne was scared of her classmates finding out about her friends. Hell, she was probably scared of her own head of house finding out now. That just made for yet another reason for Harry to want to scream, as he walked out and found his sister, along with a sobbing Hannah and angry looking Ron.

“Ignore him, Hannah. He’s nothing but an oversized bully.” Hermione told the girl firmly but gently, rubbing circles into her back. Harry scowled and that was the moment he decided it.

He was going to make sure Severus Snape got what he deserved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those interested, I wrote an In-Universe style Magical Theory Report for anyone who maybe wants some bonus material:
> 
> https://drive.google.com/file/d/1eccGHavA466nO23VdHqb6NqHWKDpPdwX/view?usp=sharing

**Author's Note:**

> Want to talk to me on discord? You can find me at Syber Space (mainly MHA server):  
> https://discord.gg/aSMswsv
> 
> You may also be able to find me on Epsi's Hoard if you're lucky (Also a MHA server):  
> https://discord.gg/thehoard


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